LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




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RURAL 



LEGENDS AND LYRICS, 




BY 

ARTHUR E. SMITH, 



ILLUSTRATED. 



NEW YORK : / ?;- 5-^^ V ^ 

JOHI^ B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER.^: 

1892. 






Copyright, 1892, by 

THE AUTHOR. 

[All Bights Reserved."] 



THIS COLLECTION 

IT Dedicate 

TO ALL 

Who in the love of Nature hold 
CoTTiTn union with her visible forms. ' 



CONTEI^TS. 



PAGE 

The Three Requests, 7 

Stars, 8 

The Bonny Maiden, . . . . . .9 

The Flower in the Cleft of the Rock, . . 10 

Life, 11 

The Hunter, 12 

The Angel, Truth, 13 

Wild Flowers, 14 

Worthlessness, 15 

In the Adirondacks, 16 

"Ere Clouds and Mists," 21 

The Two Travelers, 21 

The Old Mansion, 22 

Who Does Not Love the Spring? . . .22 

A May Day Ramble, 24 

Evening Song, 26 

The Angel of the Desert, 27 

The Woodland Rill, 30 

The Bedouin's Call, . . . . . .31 

Beside the Hudson 32 

In November, 33 

O Lord, Thy Eye Is Over All! . . . .34 

Reuben and Flora, 35 

O Hear Ye the Song ! .39 

Ode, 40 

"When I Go Home Again!" 41 

Midsummer, ........ 42 

The Lost Hunter, 43 

Hudson River. 47 



6 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Soon Will the Summer-time Be Gone, . . 50 

Harvest Hymn, 53 

Man's Weakness Compared with God's Great- 
ness, 53 

Christ's Established Word, 57 

MiN-NE-KO-MA, 58 

The Old Red Mill, 73 

The Old Turnpike Road, 75 

The Rabbi's Vision, 76 

October, 78 

Ode to Fancy, . • 79 

Landscape, 85 

A Winter Walk, 87 

Friar John, 94 

" Our Flag Shall Float Triumphant !" . .100 

To Immortality 101 

"And the Day Is Dark and Dreary,* . .104 

O Whither, Birds? 105 

Autumn, 107 

To THE Chimney Swallows, 109 

In the Heart of the Woods, .... 110 

The First Christmas Morn, 112 

Sorrowing, 116 

To Chloris, 117 

Beneath the Forest's Shade I Rest, . . .118 

The Old Trysting Tree, 119 

The Hermit, 120 

Hymn for Christmas Eve, 124 

Mortality, 125 

Immortality, 126 

An Evening Beside the Sea, . . . .127 

Recompense, 128 



RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



THE THREE REQUESTS. 

Within his garden, 'neath a tamarind-tree, 
The Sultan sat with his fair daughters three. 

"My eldest born, what shall I grant thee, 

pray? 
Ask it, and it shall granted be to-day!" 

The fair maid, raising her dark eyes, replied : 
" Grant me a prince, some courtier for my 
side!" 

" My second born, what wouldst thou have, 
I pray? 

Choose well, my child; I'll grant it thee to- 
day!" 

" Thou knowest, father, I long for pow'r and 

fame! 
Grant me a realm! I ask it in thy name!" 

" My youngest child, what dost thou wish, I 

pray? 
Tell me, and it shall granted be to-day!" 

"0 father! since thou will, my heart doth 

crave 
Thy love! naught else! for that I'd be thy 

slave!" 

Thus said, she fell down at her father's feet. 
On which she rained hot tears and kisses 
sweet. 



8 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The father's heart was touched; his child's 

pale brow 
He kissed, and said: "Thy wish I grant 

thee 710W ! " 



STAES. 



When the pleasant day is ended, 
And the evening shades appear, 

And the night-birds sweet are calling 
From out the forest near. 

Then the doors of heav'n are opened 
And the stars shine bright and clear ! 

The stars seem to my fancy 

Like lights in a city's street; 
They glimmer and gleam in the heavens 

Like the fire-flies at my feet. 
0, the stars, they light the city 

Which is not for mortals meet ! 

From the distant East the full moon 

Climbs slowly overhead. 
And her light falls on the hillside. 

Showing the city of the dead. 
0, the evening's pensive sweetness 

Has a melancholy shade ! 

Is the night but the end of the day-time? 

Is death but the end of life? 
Night's but the forerunner of day-time, 

And death, of a nobler life : 
A life without shadows or sadness. 

But with sunshine and happiness rife ! 



THE BONNY MAIDEN. ^ 

THE BONNY MAIDEN. 
Sweet Summer, send your softest gale 

To greet a lover's ear, 
For there is coming up the vale 

A bonny little dear ; 
The daisies blossom 'neath her feet. 

Wild-roses by her path, 
While thrushes answer— 0, so sweet !— 

Her merry, merry laugh. 
Ye sunbeams, play across the lea ; 

Ye willows, fondly sigh ; 
For there's no fairer maid than she 

Who now is drawing nigh. 
Her sparkling eyes are like the dew 

Upon a wildwood's fiow'r, 
And o'er her cheeks of crimson hue 

Aye smiles like sunbeams pour. 
Sweet sing, ye brooks, within yon glade, 

A melody divine. 
For there's no fairer rural maid 

Than bonny Jennie mine ; 
Ye zephyrs, kiss her lips rose-red 

And fan her lily brow; 
Ye gentle violets, hang your heads, 

And low before her bow. 
Sweet Summer, send your softest gale 

To greet a lover's ear. 
For there is coming up the vale 

A bonny little dear ; 
She's coming now to meet her love 

Beneath the trysting-tree, 
While voices from the maple-grove 

Make joyful melody. 



10 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

THE FLOWER IN THE CLEFT OF 

THE ROCK. 
One summer morn I sought the woods 

Behind McDonald's mill; 
Then all the leaves were motionless, 

And all the winds were still. 
Upon the grasses 'side my path 

The crystal dew-drops hung, 
While in the distance, sweet and clear, 

The cascade's joy-bells rung! 

At last I paused beside the stream 

That coursed adovm the glen, 
While from the hazel thickets dense, 

Sweet called the little wren. 
Before me rose a rocky wall, 

O'ergrown. with mosses green. 
And at its feet that streamlet flowed, — 

It was a pretty scene ! 

And there, within a cleft, I saw 

A lovely little flow'r. 
With scarcely dirt to hide its roots, 

Nursed both by sun and show'r! 
Its mission there was but of cheer. 

For it made that waste place bloom ; 
And I likened it to sunshine bright 

Within some lonely room ! 

''We speak of angels, and we hear 
The flutt'ring of their wings!" 

Yea, ev'ry gift that we receive 
From heav'n some angel brings! 

I thought of angels, but knew not 
An angel then was nigh. 



LIFE. 11 

Until within that cleft I did 
The little fiow'r espy! 

My melancholy heart grew glad 

As fondly I stood near ! 
Was not that flow'r an angel, if 

It had such pow'r to cheer? 
And oh ! I thought, though destiny's 

Stern walls before me tow'r, 
What joy is mine, if in some cleft 

Groweth some angel fiow'r I 



LIFE. 



Life is but the shad'wy gleam 
Of a cloud on some still stream, 
Or the little time by heaven 
To weak, erring mortals given ! 

Life is like a vapor light, 
Climbing up a mountain height. 
Which soon reaches the summit high, 
And is lost in cloud and sky ! 

Life is like a journey o'er 

Eough, steep mountains, and bleak moor,- 

Whither do thy footsteps tend? 

To what distant land, my friend? 

Life is earnest, but is short; 
No time to idly sport. 
Man must strive, if he would rise 
Higher than his own self's eyes! 

Is life but the path to fame? 
Tell me, what is in a name? 



12 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Worldly fame in time will rot, 
And its wearer be forgot ! 

Naught survives the darkened grave 
But the Christlike spirit save, 
But the soul that seeks its King 
While the bells of heaven ring. 

Life is blest to those who will 
Highest missions here fulfil; 
But's a curse to those who lust 
After that which is but — Dust 1 



THE HUNTER. 

When slowly fades the morning star, 
And Phoebus in his golden car 

Ascends the heavens clear, 
The hunter grasps his rifle true, 
And leaves his cabin, rude and low, 

And goes to hunt the deer ! 

With rifle on his shoulder, and 

Four w^ell-trained dogs at his command, 

Why halts he by yon pine? 
Lo, in the trembling light and shade, 
Anear the cottage in the glade, 

He sees his Emeline ! 

The hot blood surges to his cheeks 
As he the sinuous pathway seeks, 

Thinking of her behind ! 
Before him, like an emerald sea, 
Stretches a forest wild and free, 

Swept by the warm south wind ! 



THE ANGEL, TRUTH. 13 

On, on, he threads that wilderness, 
Thinking of her last fond caress, 

And humming a song of cheer ; 
O'er stream and runway, and through brush, 
The home of the partridge and the thrush. 

He goes to hunt the deer ! 

0, Love's the same wherever found, 
Where wildwoods spread their shade around, 

And God alone is God ; 
Or in the city and the town. 
Or where from rise till set of sun 

The peasant tills the sod ! 



THE ANGEL, TRUTH. 

Listen to the angel, Truth, 
When he speaketh unto thee I 

Sweet his voice as far-off bell, 
Chiming wild and free ; 
Or, the grander melody 

Of the proud, old ocean's waves 

Breaking o'er its coral caves! 

Truth wields pow'r, and pow'r is Might! 

Therefore, if you would have pow'r, 
List to Truth, for Truth is Right! 

And he ever holds in store 
Gifts for thee, the richest known, 
And, — which angels might covet to own, 
Riches that bring joy and peace. 
And which through all time increase ! 

What is worldly pomp and pride? 
What is gold but vanity? 



14 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS, 

Who can safe Life's storms outride? 
Who can safe sail Life's wild sea, 
If Truth is not near their side? 
If Truth is not their true guide? 
Truth is mighty ; Truth is strong ; 
Truth is victor over Wrong ! 

Listen to the angel. Truth, 
When he speaketh unto thee! 

Sweet his voice as far-off bell, 
Chiming wild and free ; 
Or, the grander melody 

Of the proud, old ocean's waves 

Breaking o'er its coral caves! 



WILD FLOWERS. 

I LOVE the flowers for their beauty, 
And for the One who gave them birth ; 

They ever lead by paths of duty — 
These angels of the earth. 

Down through the wooded mountain passes 
These angels stream in gorgeous clothes; 

And in the meadows, 'mid the grasses, 
Their lovely forms repose. 

By brinks of pools, in sedgy places, 

'Mid wild and trackless woods they grow; 

While, near the streams, their pleasant faces 
Gleam on the tides below. 

Wild flow 'rets in the sunlight shining, 
Half-open buds, and glossy leaves. 

Which, trembling, show their silver lining, 
We find among the sheaves. 



WORTHLESSNESS. 15 

Spring cannot claim all kinds of flowers ; 

Nor Summer wear all at her breast ; 
For Autumn flies to Khea's bowers 

And begs a flow'ry crest. 

We scan, for tokens of God's kindness, 
The vast cathedral heights above ; 

Nor see, because of sin -made blindness, 
In flow'rs signs of His love! 

Within my heart I would that flowers 
Fair as earth's fairest ones might grow! 

For thoughts, if blossoms, would thrive on 
showers 
Of joy and love, I know ! 

I think all flowers are but disguises 
Of angels from the realms above ; 

For they whisper when the wind surprises 
Sweet words of joy and love ! 

Flow'rs, like to angels, take departure! 

They come to us with noiseless tread ; 
They breathe of heaven and less of nature ; 

They guard the living and the dead ! 

O cherish e'er the fair wild flowers, — 
That wild and beauteous sisterhood ; 

And strive with all God-given powers 
To be as pure and good ! 



WORTHLESSNESS. 

Things that are cheap are oft a cheat ; 
The garment that doth bear the tint 
Of cheapness often has the print 
Of worthlessness upon its face. 



16 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The character that one doth bear 
Cannot be hid from God's inspection, 
And worthlessness cannot escape detection 
In souls, no more than in the robes we wear. 



IN THE ADIEONDACKS. 

(after A STORM.) 

The night has passed ; the tempest wild has 
ceased ; 
The dark- winged clouds have vanished 
with the trace 
Of morn upon the mounts within the East ! 

The mighty constellations, set in space. 
Grow dim as into view now sweeps the sun, 
Flooding with light the whole vast horizon ! 

And as I walk along the upland way, 

I cast my eyes upon the peaceful scene, — 

Where giant mountains in their grandeur lie. 
Like warriors, guarding the fair vales be- 
tween ; 

And where the thin gray mists curl slowly up 

From quiet lake-like vapors from a cup ! 

The rain-drops glisten on the proud old trees. 
And fall beneath, on tufts of tall rank 
grass, 
In diamond show'rs whene'er the gentle 
breeze 
Chances with quickened steps to rudely 
pass. 
Or happy birds drop on their leafy spray 
To greet with songs of joy the youthful day ! 



IN THE ADIRONDACKS. 17 

Beside my path the mountain Hhes bhish, 
And the bhthe streamlet, downward leap- 
ing, sings; 

While from the tangled thicket and the 
brush 
On whirring wings the partridge shy up- 
springs ! 

From monarch oaks that overlook the glade 

The squirrels call, and play beneath their 
shade. 

From depths of wood the fairies of the air. 
The gay-winged butterflies, come one by 
one; 
And bees go humming by without a care, — 
Their tiny forms soon lost in shade and sun ; 
While from beneath the leaves, — their cov- 
erlet dry, 
Creep many a beetle, ant, and dragon-fly ! 

The time has been that these wild solitudes 
Have rung with shouts of Indians fierce 

and bold. 
How many a warlike scene these dark, stern 

woods 
Have frowned upon; and, in the years 

grown old, 
How many a dusky warrior, doubly brave. 
Beneath their silent shade has found his 

grave ! 

Perhaps, yon glade can tell a fearful tale, — 
How Indian hunter, wearied by the chase. 

Was pounced upon by beasts from out the vale 
At night, and how his bones about the place 



18 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Were strewn, and how at morn an Indian 

maid 
His relics found while passing through the 

glade ! 

In ages past, before the red man made 
This wilderness his home, — the same sweet 

look 
The great sun bore ; and from the w^ooded 

glade, 
To take his fill from pool and mountain 

brook. 
The an tiered dweller of the forest came. 
Nor knew, nor "feared the arrow's deadly 

aim!" 

But since man's trod with passions unre- 
strained 
This mighty wilderness, the mountain turf 
With blood of innocent has oft been stained ! 
Where'er man's evil hand is laid, the earth 
Cries out, and Life beholds with half-drawn 

breath. 
Firm seated on her throne, the tyrant, 
Death! 

Oh, mountains wild ! Oh, leafy solitudes ! 
Now from man's evil passions thou art 
clean ; 
By lakes and streams, in thickets, groves 
and woods. 
In heaven above, in leaf and spar, are seen 
The geometric signs of God which teach 
That joy and peace are placed for all in 
reach ! 



IN THE ADIRONDACKS. 19 

And, as I tread the wood and winding glen, 
An ''offspring of a mightier, nobler race," 
Through vision, a great multitude of men 

I see ; the woods recede, and in their place 
Large towns shoot up, while o'er the Indian's 

grave 
The well-filled wheat and tender grasses 
wave! 

Ay ! it is best that Peace and Enterprise 
Should take the place of savage cruelty ! 

And Justice, from her throne within the skies 
Should ^ule the hearts of peoples yet to be ! 

When differences shall exist, let her 

Decide, and thus become sole arbiter ! 

Upon the human heart, as years roll by. 
The "love of gain" takes deeper, firmer 
hold; 
And man, with utmost skilh doth plan and 
try 
His best to hoard a wealth of what? Of 
gold! 
Nor pauses he amid the beautiful 
To thank the Great Creator who made all I 

Away! I'd rather dwell alone with God 
Where mighty mountains unto mountains 
call 
And worldly Avarice has never trod. 

Than in a palace fine, or marble hall ! 
Oh, I would dwell where cataracts leap and 

play, 
But not where Pride and Wealth alone hold 
sway! 



20 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Oh, proud, majestic mountains of the North! 
O'er thee the bright sun guides his golden 

car, 
And fragrant winds spring from thy caverns 

forth 
To hymn their praises to the Northern 

star! 
Grand are thy crags by time and tempest 

riven, 
And rough-hewn granite spires that point 

tow'rd heaven ! 

Oh, man! if thou dost love the beautiful, — 
If thou wouldst gaze on Nature's lovely 
face, — 

Seek thou these mountains, 'round whose 
summits call 
The eagles, and down whose sides the tor- 
rents race, 

Hurling with thund'rous sound unto the 
vales 

The rocks and trees loosed by the winds and 
gales ! 

And as thou climb 'st above the haunts of 

men. 
And see'st around thee hanging crag and 

spar. 
And far below thee precipice, ay ! then 
Thy heart will own its weakness, and hail 

the pow'r 
That bears thee onward tow'rd the heavenly 

height 
Where time is not, and all is love and light ! 



u 



''ERE CLOUDS AND MISTS AHISE." 21 

EEE CLOUDS AND MISTS AEISE." 

Ere clouds and mists arise to dim 

The radiance of the skies, 
In Hfe's bright morn, think on Him 

Who made thee, and be wise ! 

Ere fears and trembhngs shall assail, 
And hope and strength decrease, 

O think on Him ! He will not fail, 
When earthly comforts cease ! 

Ere thy last day shall break in Hght 

Across thy pathway lone, 
O let Him guide thy feet aright ! 

Be wise ! Trust Him alone ! 

This mortal state 'tis vain to trust! 

We hasten to the grave ! 
Dust shall again return to dust, 

Our lives to Him who gave ! 



THE TWO TRAVELEES. 

Thou little streamlet, singing sweet and low 
The livelong day, whither dost thou flow? 

Thy dimpling waves kissing the shining sand, 

whither thou? Unto what distant land? 

" Days, weeks, and years I journey on, nor 
would 

1 pause, e'en for a moment, if I could ! 

"On, on, I haste unto the boundless sea; 
As thou, trav'ler, to Eternity!" 



22 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

THE OLD MANSION. 

The mansion old is standing 

Near the arching Hnden trees, 
With its old front -door unfastened, 

And swinging to the breeze. 
Ad own the gravelled pathway 

The dusky shadows creep, 
While birds in the trees beside it 

Have folded their wings in sleep. 

As I stand within the doorway. 

And gaze within the hall, 
I see but the dust and the mildew 

That covers each dusky wall ; 
And I hear not children's footsteps 

On the rotten, trembling floor, 
Nor the music of their voices 

As they enter through the door. 

The happy little children, 

Alas ! that they are dead, 
And only in His mansion 

Is heard their spirit-tread. 
The birds at morn in the lindens 

May sing as sweet as of yore, 
But the happy songs of the children 

Will be heard here nevermore. 



WHO DOES NOT LOVE THE SPEING? 

Who does not love the bonny spring. 

And all her beauteous train? 
The flocks of birds that swiftly wing 

Their flight o'er hill and plain, 



WHO DOES NOT LOVE THE SPMIV 23 

And flow'rs that dance to ev'ry wind, 
Have they no lesson for the mind? 

Ay, flow'rs! The very name of flow'rs, 
That haunt both fleld and glen, 

Bring back loved scenes in winter hours 
Of home and youth again ! 

The king- cups on the grassy lea 

Were more than riches then to me ! 

The violets that flourished vride 

Within the shad'wy grove, — 
I've talked to them with childish pride, 

And whispered words of love ! 
For then I thought an elfin sprite 
Lay hid mthin each blossom bright ! 

Within the clefts of rocks I've seen 

The honeysuckles peer, 
And humming-birds with breasts of green 

Stealing their nectar clear ! 
And then my childish fancy deemed 
That these birds more than earthly seemed. 

I thought them spirits from some sphere 

Beyond the azure sky ; 
And in the spring, when earth was clear 

Of winter, they drew nigh. 
And took this dainty, bird-Uke form 
So they would freest be from harm ! 

Among the dwellers of the field. 

When spring-time hours were mellow. 

The verdant meadow-side revealed 
The dandelion yellow^ ! 

His crown was of refined gold : 

Such were my true, tried friends of old ! 



U RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Still are the birds and flow'rs my friends! 

But what of human kind ? 
Some fickle, false, of basest end, 

While some like flow'rs I find; 
And sweetest birds that haunt the grove, 
And all the places that I love ! 

Long as we stay in Pleasure's ring. 

To friends our eyes are blind ; 
Though Conscience gives a random sting 

How little do we mind ! 
But when on seas, by tempests driven, 
Then friends seem dear, and so does heav'n ! 

Will time destroy our love for those 
Who were our friends in youth? 

Nay ! Year by year, love stronger grows, 
For love's the soul of truth! 

Can I forget the birds and flow'rs 

Who were my friends in youth's fond hours? 



A MAY-DAY EAMBLE. 

One mellow descant more, sweet thrush ! for 
me one mellow descant more ! 

Why hidest thou within yon bush ? Art thou 
not glad that winter's o'er? 

Though now the May-day is half gone, yet 
still I seek the glowing fields 

While loud the meadow-lark sings on, thank- 
ful for gifts the season yields. 

Loud call the crows from wooded hill, while 
from the elm-tree's tangled loft 

The blue-bird pipes a few notes shrill, and 
then rich melting notes and soft. 



A MAY-DAY RAMBLE. 35 

Green are the little hollows where for w^orms 

old robm-redbreast looks ; 
The leafing woods, and skies how fair ! and 

how sweet sing all the brooks ! 

O'er meads the slim-winged swallows sweep, 
and to the distant river pass ; 

While in wide circles wheels a hawk, watch- 
ing for mice within the grass. 

Within the little pools, whose floors are 
strewn with grass and tall rank reed. 

The water-bugs, shy mariners, with their 
small oars row 'round, nor heed 

The world about them; but, intent upon 
their own selves' joy, they fall 

A prey, as the warm days are sent, to greedy 
reptiles large and small ! 

How oft upon this upland slope mine eyes 

have seen the seasons pass 
With all their glory ! Now with hope I wait 

new joy and happiness! 

How oft I've watched the dark groves fling 
their infant leaves unto the gale ! 

The maples and the locusts bloom, each in its 
time, adown the vale ! 

I have watched till eye and brain were 
full of color and of dreams 

As they! And fairy lands I've seen which 
with a thrice -fold beauty teems ! 

It is not fame that brings one joy! It is not 
wealth that brings one peace ! 



S6 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

But it is love, without alloy, and which 
through time doth e'er increase! 

I look around, but can not see, daisy, thy 

perfect white-rayed moon ! 
But yet I know from thy dark home the 

winds and sun will call thee soon ! 

Ay, I have loved thee, gentle flow'r, with 

poet's fondest love; and I 
Have learned from thee that greatest pow'r 

for good in meekness e'er doth lie! 

When in the grave they lay me low, and pile 

the earth upon my breast, 
I would that thou, dear flow'r, might 'st 

grow anear my lowly place of rest ! 

I ask not for historic ground ! I would pre- 
fer some unknown place 

Where wild-winds prattle sweet around, with 
thou, dear flow'r, the scene to grace! 

Enough of melancholy thought! Why 
should my heart be sad to-day. 

When earth and bournless sky are w^rought 
with the fair handiwork of May? 



EVENING SONG. 

When gently down the sunset way 
The golden lights and shadows play, 

And from the skies the purple dyes 
In darkness slowly fade away. 
Then, like a bird, I long to be 
Anear my nest, anear, love, thee ! 



THE ANGEL OF THE DESERT. 21 

When from the dark and lonely wood 
The night-bird breaks the solitude 

With wild, sweet lay, and o'er my way 
The moonlight falls in a silv'ry cloud, 
Then, love, I long to be with thee. 
And from all earth-born cares set free! 

When down the heathery hillsides steep 
The shepherd slowly drives his sheep. 

And from the fields no more there steals 
The merry shouts of those who reap. 
Then, like a bird that seeks its tree, 
I seek my home and, true-love, thee ! 

What joys for me at even- tide! 

What peace when thou art near my side! 

What happiness when I caress 
And draw thee closer to my side ! 

When thou art nigh Night's shadows 
flee— 

For love's the light centred in thee! 



THE ANGEL OF THE DESEET. 

Have you heard the marvellous legend. 
Told by Gentile and by Jew, 

Of the "Angel of the Desert," 
Be it false, or be it true? 

On the white sands of the desert 
Mercilessly the burning sun 

Shone, while onward, slowly onward, 
Moved a weary trav'ler, on! 

Fevered were his cheeks and forehead, 
And his lips and throat were dry : 



28 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Lost he was upon the desert, 

Where naught was but sand and sky ! 
Not a mist or not a shadow 

Fell across his pathway lone; 
Powerless he before the simoon, 

Like a giant, sw^eeping down ! 
Tortured both by earth and heaven, 

Sick and blinded by the heat, 
On he staggered until reason 

Guided not his aching feet. 
On he staggered like a drunkard, 

While thought whispered he must die ; 
Soon he fell upon the hot sands. 

With parched lips and dimming eye! 
As he lay, amid the heavens 

Overhead, he caught the gleam 
Of blue mountains and cool forests. 

And of lake and winding stream! 
Then with sudden last strong impulse 

On his elbow leaned he forth 
For to drink from the cool fountain 

Near him springing from the earth. 
But to find, alas! the vision, — 

That the airy region spanned, — 
Was a mirage of the desert. 

And naught was but wastes of sand ! 
As he sank back on his pillow, 

Panting for his very breath. 
In the red haze of the simoon 

Saw he there the gates of Death ! 
As he helpless lay, and dying, 

With eyes growing strangely dim, 
Lo, the "Angel of the Desert" 

Came and gently knelt by him ! 



THE ANGEL OF THE DESERT. 29 

To his lips she pressed a flagon 

Filled with water cool and sweet, 
And with oil she bathed his forehead, 

And anointed she his feet ! 
Then she took him up and bore him 

To a green oasis, where 
Gently laid she him, still slumb'ring, 

Near a little fountain clear ! 
All around him cooling shadows 

Fell, and lilies strewed the vale. 
While the palm-trees joined in anthem 

With the sweet-voiced desert gale ! 
Nature soon itself asserted. 

And he 'woke, but she was gone ; 
Near him sang the fronded palm-trees, 

And the fountain leaping down. 
As he 'rose, the rescued trav'ler, 

And beheld his Paradise, 
Thankfulness welled from his bosom, 

And joy filled his dusky eyes. 
And he murmured: "God, I thank thee! 

Here henceforth my home I'll make; 
And likewise, perhaps, some brother 

I may rescue for thy sake!" 

When I heard this marvellous legend, 

Came this thought straight home to me 
Like the "Angel of the Desert" 

He who would so may he be ! 
Every act of love and mercy, 

When in the right spirit done. 
E'er will gather more of brightness 

As the mighty years roll on ! 



30 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

THE WOODLAND EILL. 
I WANDER down the aisles of pine, 

And turn the brow of the hill, 
And there within the wooded vale 

Swift flows the v/oodland rill. 
Its banks are lined with briar and vine, 

And graceful arching trees, 
Whose sun-kissed leaves and cooling shade 

Invite the summer breeze. 

At early morn, when the bright sun 

Eounds slowly into sight, 
And floods the woods and vales around 

With a rich, golden light. 
The timid partridge and her brood 

E'er come to take their fill 
From this sweet fountain, crystal clear, 

This little woodland rill. 

I stoop, and quench my thirst from where 

The waters slowly run, 
And where they form a little pool 

Sheltered from the bright sun. 
I prize this gift that Nature gives. 

These waters cool and clear. 
Which leap aud sparkle through the vale 

The whole of the long year. 

Pure as the tear which sorrow draws 

From the eye's hidden well. 
Pure as the dew of heaven caught 

In the modest lily's bell, 
And purer than the rain which clouds 

Scatter o'er vale and hill 
Are the laughing, sparkling waters of 

This little woodland rill. 



THE BEDO UIN ' S CALL. 3 1 

Here lovers meet, at night's fond hour, 

To hold communion sweet, 
Here hunters cool their heated brows. 

And rest their weary feet, 
Here beauty lingers longest, here 

Are first seen smiles of spring, 
And here the joyous birds of song 

Their sweetest anthems sing. 

Fair woodland stream ! a charm thou hast 

For all who do thee love ; 
Eound thee, with light and joyous wing, 

Fancy doth ever move. 
I count life drear if I can not 

From Nature pleasures cull ; 
But thou art glad, for thou dost breathe 

E'er of the beautiful! 



THE BEDOUIN'S CALL. 

A WEARY Arab, 'mid the desert wild. 

Had wandered from the way ; 
A mirage had his steps beguiled, 

And far he'd gone astray. 
And now the sun had set in blood, 

And night was sweeping down ; 
In answer to his call, he heard. 

Afar, a camel's plaintive moan. 

He hastened whence the glad sound came, 

And, lo, a Bedouin's tent! 
The Sheik appeared: "In Allah's name, 

For you who are forespent. 
Here's rest and water cool and food!" 

The wand'rer sought his side. 



32 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

"Praise be to Allah for He is good! 
My long lost son!" the old Sheik cried. 

The son replied : " Father, 'tis I, 

And but for you I'd died!" 
And hence the custom, when draws nigh 

The night on desert wide. 
The Bedouin stands outside his tent, 

Facing the sunset's gate. 
And cries: "All you who are forespent, 

In Allah's name, for you I wait!" 



BESIDE THE HUDSON. 

Beside the far-famed Hudson now am I, 
Intently gazing at the beauteous scene 
Displayed. Yon mountains, clothed with 

forests green. 
In eternal grandeur, are limned against the 

sky! 
From off their Titan shoulders, mantles 

white, 
Formed from the mists and dews, and 

gemmed with light, 
They cast, and fling to the river at their 

feet. 
Which flows with rippling wave and music 

sweet 
Through channel cut through precipices high 
And level lands. Above its turbulent 

breast 
The small birds and the blue- winged herons 

fly! 
Ah! here where Nature's sov' reign there is 

rest! 



IN NOVEMBER. 33 

And here the weary spirit can be free 
To reassiime, again, simplicity ! 



IN NOVEMBER. 

What visions greet the eye to-clay, — 
Green fields of clover and of grain, 

Fair skies and mounts of bluish-gray, 
And beauteous flow'rs on hill and plain? 

I would these might ! But, ah ! instead, 

Are seen but visions of the dead ! 

The woods are stripped; the fields laid 
waste ; 

The woodland-paths are piled with leaves ; 
And on its journey tow'rd the west, 

For Summer past the river grieves ! 
Deserted stands the old stone mill. 
And ice-bound is its water-wheel 1 

Upon the distant mountains high. 

All robed in white, young Winter stands; 

While, through the groves and woodlands 
nigh, 
Pale spectres stalk with upraised hands ! 

In field remains not one bright ember 

To light the pathway for November I 

Lo ! as we gaze, from out the waste 
Of leaden clouds, in shad'wy height, 

Down stream the snows; soon ev'ry place 
And object's robed in garments white, — 

Soon hillside, moor, and tangled brake 

Are white as banks of stream and lake ! 



34 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Though dreary dow when birds have flown, 
And trees their painted leaves have cast, 

And o'er the hills and forests lone 

Fierce sweeps the bitter, northern blast — 

Yet let us strive to truly say : 

"God is our light, our joy to-day!" 



LOED, THY EYE IS OVER ALL! 

Lord, thou dost tend with loving care 

The lilies in the fields ; 
The birds within the forests share 

The joy thy presence yields ; 
And thou dost note each sapling small 

Change to the perfect tree ; 
Lord, thy eye is over all, 

So watch and guard thou me ! 

The clouds which float the mountains o'er, 

And winds which sweep the plain, 
Thou bid'st them go, they own thypow'r. 

And come, they come again. 
Thou calmest. Lord, the troubled sea ; 

Its waves obey thy will, — 
Bid thou the doubts and fears in me 

To evermore be still ! 

As the oak upon the mountain side 

The lightning rends in twain. 
As leaflets scatter far and wide 

Before the hurricane. 
So scatter. Lord, all wrong, all sin. 

And rend my stubborn heart 
With love, if need be. Lord, in twain ; 

Then sanctify each part. 




O LORD THY EYE 18 OVER ALL! ' Page 34 



REUBEN AND FLORA. 35 



EEUBEN AND FLORA. 

"Do you love me?" asked young Eeuben to 
his handsome, blue-eyed Flo ; 

"Do you love me, love me any? Answer 
truly, yes or no!" 

O'er their heads the sunlight golden lingered 
with a long caress 

Till the sun had wholly vanished in the dis- 
tant, crimson west. 

"Do you love me, love me, truly? Is your 

dear heart fully mine? 
I can trust you, darling, ever?" Soft her 



It is two years since that evening, and dear 

Flora by me stands ; 
From her eyes the tears are falling, while in 

mine I clasp her hands. 

White her cheeks as are the lilies, and her 

lips have bloodless grown ; 
Her blue eyes have lost their brightness, and 

her youthful beauty's gone. 

"Shall I never," sighs she softly, "see my 

darling, Eeuben, more? 
Though I love him, so fondly, shall I never 

see him more? 

" Just two years ago my Eeuben and I stood 

within yon grove; 
There he told me how he loved me, and he 
asked me for my love!" 



36 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Then I tried to soothe her sorrow, but her 

grief would burst anew ; 
And she'd murmur, sweetly murmur, ''Is 

he false, or is he true ! 

"0 I'm longing just to see him ere I die, 

just once again; 
I forgive him for the suff 'ring which he's 

caused me, and the pain!" 



Yet one more year, and the May-time with 
its lovely flow'rs has come; 

And the birds are singing gayly in the elms 
near Flora's home. 

Flora on her bed is lying nigh unto the gates 

of death ; 
And she looks out through the window, and 

she whispers with each breath : 

" He is coming, he is coming, I shall see him 

yet once more ! 
Ere I close my eyes in slumber, Eeuben I 

shall see once more!" 

"Ev'ry day her voice grows weaker, yet she 

whispers: "Reuben, dear, 
He will come ere comes the evening, once 

again I'll meet him here! 

" Though three years have slowly vanished 
since I have my Reuben met. 

Ere I close my eyes in slumber, I shall see 
him, see him yet !" 



REUBEN AND FLORA. 37 

It was on a lovely morning in the latter part 

of June, 
When the skies were bright with sunshine, 

and the birds seemed most in tune, 

And in through the open windows came the 

scent of flowers fair. 
Of the old hall garden's roses, violets and 

lilies rare, 

That I heard light footsteps coming quickly 

up the gravelled path. 
But the lilacs hid him ; thought I it is Keu- 

ben, or his wraith. 

As I gazed out through the window, I saw 

Eeuben at the door ; 
"He is coming," Flora whispered; "I shall 

see my love once more ! 

" Now what makes you look so joyful ? Why 

the gladness in your eye? 
Is he coming? Do you see him? Is my 

Eeuben, Reuben nigh?" 

But she knew not who was waiting anxiously 

her then to see ! 
Soft she whispered: "He is coming, for the 

angels have told me I" 

Then I told her that her Eeuben had come 

back to her again, 
And outside the door was waiting till I'd 

bid him to come in. 

"God be praised!" she fondly whispered; 

"go, and bid him come to me! 
I shall die ere comes the twilight, but, thank 

God, I him shall see!" 



38 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Then I oped the door, and Reuben entered 
with his face aglow. 

"I have come," he told her gayly, ^'never- 
more to leave you, Flo!" 

As he knelt down by her bedside, and he saw 
how pale and thin 

Were her cheeks, once like the roses, tear- 
drops stood his eyes within. 

" Great," he said, " the wrong I've done you ; 

God have pity on my soul ! 
I knew not you loved so truly, that I was 

your all in all!" 

" Do not thus upbraid me, Reuben, love and 

not love I can not ! 
I was true to you ; I loved you after you had 

me forgot ! 

"I forgive you freely, Reuben! Clasp me 

now unto your heart ! 
Let me feel your arms around me as of old 

before we part!" 

Tight he clasped her to his bosom, and he 

whispered words of love ; 
Fond her eyes she fixed upon him, but her 

lips refused to move. 

Then he laid her on her pillow, and he kissed 

her forehead white ; 
One long gasp, and all was over — her sweet 

soul had winged its flight ! 

All day long he knelt beside her — his old love 

had burst anew ; 
And he'd moan: "0 God, that I was, so 

false, and she so true!" 



HEAR YE THE SONG! 39 

Thirty years have passed, and Eeuben still 

remembers his sweet Flo ; 
that he had been more faithful in the 

long, sad years ago. 



HEAE YE THE SONG! 

HEAR ye the song which the bonny June 

sings ! 
hear ye the whirr of her beautiful wings, 
As swiftly she flies over woodland and lea 
To waken the roses, my Mary, for thee ! 

The buttercups thrive on the green grassy 
plains, 

And the song-birds are chanting their glad- 
some refrains, 

For June, she is here with her laughter and 
glee 

To waken the roses, my Mary, for thee! 

Adown through the forest the brook flows 

along 
With a silvery laugh, and a low pleasant 

song; 
For June, she is flying o'er woodland and lea 
To waken sweet music, my Mary, for thee ! 

Yet, the sweetest of melody springs from 

the soul 
When love of the harp-strings has perfect 

control ; 
But the fairest of flow'rs and the dearest to me 
Are the roses June wakens, my Mary, for thee ! 



40 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS 



ODE. 

(Written for the anniversary of Washington's Birthday.) 

This is the anniversary 

Of that most highly honored day 

When heaven gave Columbia 

Her noble Washington ! 

Peal, guns, from forts beside the sea ! 
Ring, bells, wild bells, for Liberty ! 
Shout to the moimtains grand and free : 
God, and our Washington!" 



a 



It was our fearless Washington 
That fiercely hurled the gauntlet down, 
And bravely crossed the ''Rubicon," 
And fought for Liberty ! 

Honor the warrior, first in war. 
With character that none could mar ! 
The statesman pure! our country's star! 
Our noble Washington ! 

Let Fame his glorious name engrave 
Beyond the reach of tyrant, knave ! 
Beyond the sweep of Time's swift wave. 
That all who run may read ! 

From Atlantic's to Pacific's strand, 
Ours is a firm united land ! 
Ours is the Yankee's Fatherland I 
The Home of Liberty! 

No more his pow'r the Briton boasts! 
Docile his lion on our coasts ; 
And dear to us is the Lord of Hosts, 
And thee, O Washington! 



" WHEN I GO HOME AGAIN! " 41 

No foreign foe can drag us down, 

For Freedom reigns, and Slavery's flown! 

We learned to trust in God alone 

From thee, O Washington ! 

Long as Columbia shall be 

Home for the noble, brave, and free, 

Thy name shall ever honored be. 

Great Father, — Washington! 



"WHEN I GO HOME AGAIN!" 
The evening shadows deepen. 

As the dreary hours roll on. 
And the autumn breezes murmur 

In a dull, sad undertone. 
As I sit by the fitful firelight, 

And list to the splash of the rain, 
My heart is filled with a longing 

For the dear old home again ! 

I long for the dear old faces 

And the hearts so loving always, 
So ready with words of counsel, 

So ready with words of praise ! 
I'm tired of the wrongs and the heartaches, 

And the ceaseless struggle for "gain;" 
And I long for the restful quiet 

Of the dear old home again ! 

When I step o'er the well-worn threshold 
Of my dear old boyhood's home, 

How my heart will thrill with rapture 
At their welcome — "He is come!" 

As sweet as the voice of angels, 
Chanting in glad refrain. 



42 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS, 

Will be their joyous greeting 
When I go home again ! 

The evening shadows deepen, 

As the dreary hours roU on, 
And the autumn breezes murmur 

In a dull, sad undertone. 
As I sit by the fitful firelight, 

While steadily falls the rain, 
T dream of the friends awaiting 

My coming home again ! 



MIDSUMMER. 
From mossy cliffs the little fountain leaps. 
And tenderly his tale of love he lisps 
Unto the daisies, and the wind that drifts 
In a small boat slowly across the deeps 
Of clover blooms. O'erhead, the bright sun 

keeps 
His fiery steeds upon the bound, nor shifts 
He his course through mid-heav'n. O'er 

granite cliffs 
His radiance streams, and down the moun- 
tain steeps. 
Earth's multitudes are smitten, — e'en the 

maize. 
With slender, half- curled leaves, faints in the 

field, 
And herds pant though by the dark woods 

concealed. 
All living creatures shrink from the mid- 
summer blaze; — 
No break is in the sky-line, save where aloft 
Some startled pigeons stream from a low croft. 



THE LOST HUNTER. 43 

Noon of the seas'n! The summer's sultry 

noon ! 
A silence like that of a Sabbath clay 
Reigns o'er the fields, and o'er the hills holds 

sway! 
The lab'rer sits within his door; alone 
His horse, unharnessed, eats of the new hay 
Beneath the overarching maples strewn ; 
While from the garden comes the bees' low 

drone. 
And from the barn shouts of his boys at play ! 
Yet a few moons, and changed will be the 

scene ! 
No more the bees will murmur by the hedge, 
Nor warblers pij)e their clear notes 'mid the 

sedge, 
Nor crickets chirp upon the wind-swept 

green ! 
" 'Tis well the seasons change, for did they 

keep 
A changeless state 'twere cause indeed to 

weep!" 



THE LOST HUNTEE. 
(a legend of the north woods.) 
" I KNOW where the herd of wild deer hide 

In the depth of the forest shade, 
Where with sandaled feet the south winds 
glide 
From mossy glade to glade ! 

" I know where the Morning laughs at the 
Night 
By the noisy waterfall, 



44 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS 

And the eagle drops from his dizzy height 
To his nest on the mountain wall ! 

" I know where the panther has his lair, 
And the black bear has his den ; 

And have seen their forms by the firehght's 
glare 
When far from the haunts of men ! 

" I know where the partridge rears her brood, 
And the wild bees build their comb ! 

Each wild waste and each solitude 
With a fearless heart I roam ! 

" I know where the mountain-lilies blush. 
And turn towards the summer sun 

Their brilliant cheeks; and I've heard the 
thrush 
Smging the daylight down ! 

"Yet, the fairest flow'r of sun and show'r 

Now blooms for me alone ; 
And oft do we meet in the wild-graj)e bow'r 

When the evening shades sweep down! 

"On the mossy bank, where the hemlock 
throws 

Its tilting shades around, 
I 'wait her step with a heart that knows 

No sweeter, holier sound!" 

Thus the hunter sings as he lightly fares 

Along the mountain path, 
And he hears her voice in the musical airs. 

And in splashing streams her laugh! 

In birchen thickets the scurry of wings 
Proclaim the wild-birds' flight. 



THE LOST HUNTER. 45 

And the timid fawn from her covert 
springs 
Away to the wooded height. 

From the rocky walls the pine-trees throw 
Their boughs o'er the narrow pass, 

While dew-drops tremble on bushes low 
And tufts of tall rank grass. 

By the morning winds the trees are stirred 
Where the birds their carols renew, 

And the quickened roar of the cascade's 
heard 
Where the birches sparkle with dew ! 

The hunter threads with eager feet 

The depths of the solitudes ; 
With his trusty rifle he dares to meet 

The "scourge" of the dark stern woods! 

He promised one, ere his home he left 
In the first faint flush of the morn, 

That he'd return ere the night should drift 
O'er Sandanona's horn. 

The dark'ning woods by the mountain track 
Ring loud with the night-bird's lay. 

Yet the weary hunter comes not back 
From the wilds at the close of day ! 

The shadows grow, and grow apace, 
And the mists rise from the rills. 

Till a dark robe hides each mountain's face 
And the brows of the wooded hills! 

He comes not back, though the stars peei 
down 
From their heights in the gray-black sky ; 



46 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

By her frugal board his mother alone 
Sits waiting anxiously ! 

And oft to the door of the cottage low 

A maiden steps to look 
Adown the vale where the maples throw 

Their shades o'er the silent brook! 

In vain she looks ! She can see not him 
'Mid the shades of night which fall ; 

But she hears on the hill a panther scream, 
And a wolf in the valley howl ! 

In vain she waits through the long, still 
night,— 
Until the moon goes down. 
And the stars grow dim 'neath the soft 
white light 
That heralds the morrow's sun! 

In vain her tears like an April rain. 
For he comes not with the morrow ! 

The swift hours fly, and the night again 
Comes bringing her hopeless sorrow ! 

'Tis three years since, when the wild -birds 
sing 

Their sweetest in woodland bow'rs. 
And summer comes on gentle wing, 

A strewing the land with flow'rs. 

At the foot of a jagged precipice. 

One morn, some hunters found 
In the depths of the silent wilderness 

A rifle upon the ground. 

Its barrel was choked with dirt and rust, 
Both hammer and flint were gone ; 



HUDSON RIVER. 47 

From off the plate they brushed the dust, 
And read— ''Bill Donaldson!" 

In a little nook by grass and moss 

And fern-leaves overgrown, 
Half -hid from sight, they came across 

A human skeleton. 

How the hunter met his death none knew ! 

Some thought he plunged the height, 
And others, a murd'rous hand him slew 

In the dark and the dead of night. 



HUDSON EIVEE. 

From this proud height I look down on 

Our noble Hudson flowing 
Betwixt steep hills, while western v/inds 

Across its breast are blowing ! 
Born in the North, where cooling gales 

Sweep o'er the rugged mountains, 
And fed by waters from a host 

Of clearest, purest fountains ! 

Were never scenes more fair than these ! 

Were never scenes more grand, ! 
The Switzers boast of Alpine heights. 

Bright skies, and happy land, ! 
They cannot boast of highland scenes 

More fair than these of ours, — 
Yon river and the fertile vales, 

These mountains with their flowers! 

Old Scotland has her "crystal streams," 
Her Devon, Doon, and Ayr, O, 

And Germany her castled Ehine, 
And Italy her Arno ! 



48 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

But our dear land can boast of streams 

With growing fame and glory, 
Ordained to take the highest place 

In legend, song, and story ! 

Above me tow'r the granite crags, 

Beside me pines are swaying. 
And from a level forest comes 

The hounds' excitant baying ! 
The crows from tops of hemlocks call, 

O'erhead a hawk is winging, 
While near my feet, o'er ledges steep, 

A mountain stream goes singing! 

I hear a wood -thrush in the glen, 

A black-bird in the fallow, 
And deep within the beechen grove 

A huntsman's joyous halloo ! 
Hudson ! O'er no fairer stream 

Do morning clouds go sailing, 
And on no fairer brow shall gleam 

The sunset's golden veiling ! 

O'er Crow's Nest sings the blythe west 
wind. 

Then sweeps across the water. 
To die within Ma-co'o-pack's^ arms. 

The Highlands' fairest daughter! 
Far to the south Old Anthony 

A golden crown is wearing. 
And Phoebus with his cohorts bright 

Down on Break- Neck f is bearing ! 

* Lalie Mahopac. On Sauthier's map of 1779 this 
lake is called " Lake Ma-co'o-pack. 

f This poem depicts the Hudson in the vicinity of 
Cold Spring, N. Y. 



HUDSON RIVER. 49 

A century ago was heard 

Here war's wild ruthless clamor, 
But now from yonder village come 

The ring of blacksmith's hammer, 
And shouts of men at w^ork upon 

The church's lofty steeple, 
And roaring of the passing trains, 

Bearing their loads of people ! 

I look unto the South, and there 

Behold the smoke clouds hov'ring 
Above large cities, and large mills 

Their many acres cov'ring! 
I look unto the North, and there 

Behold rich meadows glowing 
With brightest green, and well-tilled 
fields. 

The thrift of farmers showing ! 

In Africa, where the Congo rolls 

Its waters tow'rds the ocean. 
There heav'n beholds the heathen hordes 

E'er in warlike commotion! 
But Peace our Christian river hath 

Forever in her keeping. 
And shepherds on the hills fear not 

Diana's kiss when sleeping! 

Here Freedom's watch-fires brightly throw 

Their gleams across the waters. 
And noblest types of humankind 

Are our own sons and daughters ! 
Here Justice rules, and Wisdom takes 

A high, exalted station ; 
Ours is a common brotherhood, — 

A model of a nation ! 



50 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Freedom of thought, and speech, and press ! 

Freedom from iron fetters ! 
To God alone we bend the knee, 

To God alone we're debtors! 
My coimtry, thou shalt never fall ! 

And free as yonder river, 
Which sweeps along with current strong. 

Thy children shall be ever ! 



SOON WILL THE SUMMER-TIME BE 
GONE. 

With loving eye glance at the flow'rs 
That deck with beauty hill and plain. 

And drink the gladness of these hours. 
Which never back will come again ! 

The golden-rod, whose lovely head 
With regal splendor decks yon hill, 

Eeflects the light by angels shed, 
And teaches us the Master's will. 

The snow-white daisies haunt the vales 
And pastures where the lambkins play ; 

And e'er they whisper kindly tales, — 
Both innocent and truthful they ! 

Upon the hillsides lilies sway. 
And nod to ev'ry passing breeze; 

While from the clover fields, to-day. 
Is borne the murm'rous sound of bees. 

The brook within the tangled glade 
Prattles along its pebbly way ; 



SOON WILL THE SUMMER-TIME BE GONE. 51 

But where the birds who song once made 
Beside its banks in spring-time gay? 

Soon will the summer-time be gone ! 

Soon will the flowers disappear, 
And wailing winds blow piercing, chill, 

O'er fields, and through the forests near! 

A gentleness seems in the skies ; 

A misty haze hangs o'er the earth; 
A slumb'rous calm o'er Nature lies, 

Unlike to sadness, joy, or mirth ! 

The locust whips his gauzy wings, 

And pipes clear notes in field and grove ; 

The katydid at evening sings 

From out the elm-tree to his love. 

All that have felt life's strength and bloom, 
All that ^re born must soon decay; 

The fairest flow'r robes for the tomb; 
The sweetest singer must pass away ! 

The fairest season hath its death ; 

The longest day hath e'er its close; 
The greenest leaf soon feels the breath 

Of quick decay, well as the rose ! 

Great joy is balanced by great grief; 

Midsummer's by midwinter's sight; 
The spring-time by the autumn brief; 

And life's bright day by death's dark 
night ! 

As joyous seasons near their end 

The thankful heart to thoughts gives rise 



52 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Which e'er the veils of darkness rend, 
And show the soul its Paradise. 

When we as dust become again 

Where will the spirit's dwelling be? 

Far from all changes, we shall then 
The beauty of true summer see ! 



HAEVEST HYMN. 

To thee, gracious Father, we joyfully raise 
A song of thanksgiving, an anthem of praise. 
For the earth thou hast blessed with the 

sunlight and rain ; 
Now rich is the harvest on hillside and plain ! 

The orchards are lad'n with the choicest of 

fruits. 
The grain on the hillsides is golden and fair, 
The vineyards are burdened, and now the 

glad shouts 
And songs of the reapers are borne on the 

air! 

With kind, loving hand thou hast led us 

along. 
And hast sown in our spirits the blessings of 

song! 
For health and prosperity gladly we raise 
To thee, gracious Father, an anthem of 

praise ! 

Lord, all that we need thou hast given 

indeed ! 
Thy promises rich are unfolding each hour ! 



MAN'S WEAKNESS. 53 

The wine of thy love which our spirits have 
need 

From the horn of thy plenty forever out- 
pour ! 

The heavens are glowing with promise 
above, 

And this harvest's a sign of thy kindness 
and love ! 

From the depths of our hea^rts now we joy- 
fully raise 

To thee, gracious Father, this anthem of 
praise ! 



MAN'S WEAKNESS COMPAEED WITH 
GOD'S GREATNESS. 

Roll ! roll, thou murky clouds, across the 
sky! 
And thou, mighty hurricane. 
Break from the adamantine chain 
That binds thee, and teach Man that he 

must die ! 
Upon yon mountain's side, sway thou, 
pine ! 
And sweep, winds, o'er mount and vale, 
For what can Man's weak pow r avail 
Against the Great Creator^s pow^r divine! 

And thou, mighty avalanche, swift hurl 
The deb7ns of a thousand years 
Adown the mountain's side! fears. 

Arise from out the uttermost parts of the 
world 



54 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

And sway the stubborn heart of Man till 
he 
Acknowledges that God reigns o'er 
This world from wave-washed shore to 
shore, 
And ever will till earth shall cease to be! 

Let Man with pride sit in High Halls of 
State, 
And yet like dew he perisheth ! 
Sure as the coming night is death ! 
"Time heals all cruel wounds!'' Death's 

but the gate. 
The only entrance to a nobler sphere ! 
Man by his deeds on earth is known. 
And surely he will reap what he has 
so^^ai 
In the Hereafter, if he does not here ! 

Has Man like to the eagle pow'r of flight, 
And can he with his naked eye 
Unflinching gaze at the sun on high? 

Like to the timid owl can he see at night? 

Has Man the pow'r of song as has the 
thrush? 
Can he the rightful cause explain, 
How grow the flow'rs on yonder plain? 

How thrives upon yon hill the white-thorn 
bush? 

Well may Man in his journey a moment 
pause. 

And overlook the plains of life ! 

For why to-day the wrong and strife? 
For each effect there surely is a cause ! 



3IAN'S WEAKNESS. 55 

Let Man cast to one side his Science and 
His weak and vain Philosophy, 
That he his duty clear may see. 

And with God through this life walk hand 
in hand 1 

'Tis best that Man with Arrogance shouldst 
part. 

For has he pow'r to stop the moon 

As Joshua had at Ajalon? 
Better by far than pow'r is a Christ-like 

heart ! 
Can Night retard the wheels of coming Day? 

Can Man build mountains from the plain, 

And from the skies bring down the rain? 
God rules the earth, and Nature doth obey ! 

As Man on some proud eminence looks down 
Upon the far, broad widening plain 
Below, on fields of waving grain. 

And notes each object in the morning's sun, 

So God from his proud eminence above 
Looks through the starry atmosphere 
Down on his great creations here, 

And notes with joy Man's ev'ry deed of love ! 

The painter on his canvas puts each thought 
In colors with well -trained eye — 
The land, the sea, the mounts, the sky! 

His work's soon done, and he is soon forgot! 

The poet writes sweet songs fresh from his 
heart 
That melt with love and tenderness, 
Awhile the world doth him caress. 

But soon casts him aside, for such is Art ! 



56 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The singer on his instrument sweet chords 
Strikes, then begins his passionate song ; 
And with his voice sways the great throng 

As doth the wind the pines — the forest lords ! 

Soon sickness comes and his great pow'r is 
gone; 
Or some one with more perfect voice 
Than he becomes the people's choice! 

Such is their fate who follow Art alone ! 

"Fame's but a bubble tossed into the air!" 
A meteor's flash in the midnight sky! 
The gleam at eve of a fire-fly ! 

Or a cloud's shadow in the noon-day glare! 

But blest the soul of him who kindness does, 
Who scorns all worldly, fleshly lust. 
And tries to e'er be noble, kind, and just ! 

His is the peace no other mortal knows ! 

Throw off, O Man, thy vain Philosophy ! 

Be pure as Nature is to-day ! 

Though thou art weak, born to decay, 
Thy soul shall live when stars no longer be ! 
Thou wast flrst fashioned in the image of 
thy God! 

Of bis great wisdom thou dost share! 

How meet it is for thee to bear 
A humble heart, and walk where he has 
trod! 

Is this the age of Eeason when Men scorn 

The teachings of Gethsemane, 

And ridicule the Deity? 
Must Earth witness another crucifixion 
morn? 



CBRISrS ESTABLISHED WORD. 57 

Heav'n, forbid that Man should back- 
ward go 

In this age of enhghtenment ! 

Or that his years should be misspent 
In following strange gods of Sin and Woe ! 

Thou, the Light, the Life, the Breath, the 
Glory ! 

With pow'r to heal and strength to slay! 

Thou didst ordain from Time's first day 
That ev'ry Man shouldst bend a knee before 

Thee! 
If Man but turns to Thee as to the light 

His eyes, his sightless eyes shall see ! 

And to his heart thy love will be 
As to the thirsting flow'r the dew of night! 

Where are the gods that ruled by sin and 
death? 
Lo, they are gone as in the chase 
The hounds upon the wild -beast's trace, 
And naught remains but the poisons of their 

breath ! 
Strange gods will rise as in the East the sun ; 
But eons of time will fiercely smite 
Them with their wings. When comes 
the night 
They're gone, for Thou, O God, art God alone ! 



CHRIST'S ESTABLISHED WORD. 

Though earthly joys should fade away. 
Like stars before the dawn of day, 
Yet naught can dim the joys from Heaven, 
The joys they feel who are forgiven. 



58 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The ancient mariners whose guide 
The North Star was, o'er ocean's tide, 
Were filled with awe and sore dismay 
When fled that guiding star away. 

And so might we be filled with dread 
If Christ's own Word should cease to shed 
Its joys like rays from stars of gold 
Upon our ever-burdened souls. 

Yet Christ's established Word will last 
Till sun and moon shall cease to cast 
Their lights on earth, and ages roll 
Around a fixed eternal pole. 

Though earth and life must fade away, 
God's Word will last for aye and aye! 
Ye weary ones by sin oppressed 
Trust in God's Word; 'twill bring you rest! 



MIN-NE-KO-MA. 

From the wildei-ness of Mus-ko-ka,* from 
the lake that faileth never, 

Flows the Ash-ke-Muck-Muckt river through 
dark wood and intervale 

Westward to the great lake Huron, west- 
ward to that inland ocean. 

Bright with many a gleaming sail ! 

* Mus-ko-ka is the name of a small lake in the pro- 
vince of Ontario ; also refers to the region surrounding 
that lake. 

f The Ash-ke-Muck-Muck River is the outlet of Mus- 
ko-ka Lake. It flows westward, and empties into 
Match-e-dash-a Bay, Lake Huron. 



MIN-NE-KO-MA. 59 

Now beside that northern river, leaping, 
sparkHng, sweeping westward, 

In the summer's heard the loons' cries, and 
the wild-geese' bell-like clang. 

And the cries of blue-winged herons, as of 
old when Min-ne-ko-ma 

On its green banks sat and sang ! 

This fair river hath its legend, just a simple 

wild-wood's legend. 
Yet 'tis worthy of rememb' ranee, so I'll 

weave it in a lay : 
For I prize the old traditions of the rude and 

warlike people 
That have passed from earth away ! 



" Ere the white men crossed the ocean, in 
the days that are forgotten. 

On the uplands of Mus-ko-ka dwelt a band 
of Ir-o-quols ; 

And they fished beside the river, and they 
hunted in the forests. 

Fearing not their Huron foes ! 

"Their head chief was a great warrior, 
Match-e-dash, the brave, the mighty ! 

Well he ruled his band, and wisely, and 
with them was law his word ! 

Not a son he had, and only one fair daugh- 
ter, Min-ne-ko-ma, 

With a heart and voice of bird ! 



60 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

"As the Goddess of the Morning, in her car 
above the mountain, 

Beautiful was Min-ne-ko-ma ; as the fawn 
her steps were Hght ; 

And her hair was long and glossy as a rav- 
en's wing down drooping, 

While her eyes were dark as night ! 

"All the young men loved her fondly, and 
would lay their gifts beside her. 

But of them she took no notice, nor their 
gifts receive would she ! 

But she loved the w41d, dark forest, with its 
moaning pines and hemlocks, 

Where birds made sweet melody ! 

"Often in the quiet mornings, when unto 

her father's wigwam 
Gathered young men from the village, she 

would flee unto the wood ; 
Lest her father should be angry, none there 

were who dared to follow, 
Or upon her haunts intrude ! 

" But of all her many suitors one there was, 
the fierce 0-jet-ka, 

Whom she hated 'bove all others, yet re- 
pulsed he would not be ! 

Far and near he sought the choicest gifts 
and brought them to her dwelling; 

Though she scorned him, naught cared he ! 

"Yes, a crafty, cunning warrior was 0-jet- 
ka, for with presents 

Eich he brought the old chief over to 
espouse with warmth his cause ! 



3I1N-NE-K6-MA. 61 

But in vain, for Min-ne-ko-ma did not love 

him, and she would not, 
For her heart another's was ! 

" None could guess or tell the reason why 
this maiden did not marry ; 

Yet some thought she loved the Huron who, 
for her, had earnestly plead 

With her father, and had offered him rich 
presents, but who answered : 

'"She some Ir-o-quois must wed!' 

" Thay-en da-ga was a mighty warrior, hon- 
ored by the Hurons ; 

Just he was, and brave and noble, and he 
loved this maiden well ; 

And she loved him — this fair wild-rose — for 
she whispered : 'Ere a hundred 

Moons shall pass with you I'll dwell!' 

" So it was that Thay-en-da-ga left the wig- 
wam of her father. 

And returned unto his people dwelling near 
the Great fresh Lake ! * 

After he had gone, oh, dreary seemed the 
days to Min-ne-ko-ma, 

Yet she was happy for his sake ! 

" Though the old chief was much angered, 
and he chided his fair daughter. 

Still he did not wish her e'er to marry one 
she did not love. 

So a year passed ; again Summer, wrapping 
her bright robes about her. 

Softly stole through thicket and grove ! 
* Great fresh Lake refers to Lake Huron. 



62 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

"In the fields the small green feathers of 
the maize shot slowly upward, 

While the small leaves of the maple longer, 
broader, greener grew ! 

Soon the whole land blushed with beauty, 
with the beauty of the summer, 

And the deep blue heavens too ! 

"In the evenings Min-ne-ko-ma sat and lis- 
tened to the night-birds, 

To the mournful Wa-won-is-sas * calling 
from the forests near ! 

When asleep she lay at midnight she would 
dream of Thay-en-da-ga, 

And his footsteps she would hear ! 

"Now, 0-jet-ka, grown more cunning, hid 
his grief and appeared light-hearted. 

So as to throw Min-ne-ko-ma off her guard ; 
but all the while 

He was watching o'er her movements as a 
panther o'er a hunter 

Hunting in the lonely wild ! 

"But one evening, when the sun had set 
behind the western mountains. 

He beheld the blushing maiden leave her 
lodge and seek the wood ; 

Dark the fog lay on the river, while amid 
the reeds and rushes 

And the lilies, young Night stood. 

"Even then 0-jet-ka dared not to be seen to 

follow after, 
So he took a wider circle that would come 

out on her trail. 

* Wa-won-is-sas is the Indian word for whippoor- 
wills. 



MIN-NE-KO-MA. 63 

Like a panther he crept onward, list'ning 

for the faintest echo 
Of her footsteps in the vale ! 

" Dark before him loomed the forest — loomed 
the hemlocks and the pine trees ! 

*What was that?' he stopped a moment. 
'What was that — a wolf or bear? 

'T«is the cracking of the dry twigs 'neath 
the feet of MIn-ne-ko-ma!' 

To himself he muttered there. 

"On he followed to a clearing; there, in 

open space and moonlight. 
With her long hair down her shoulders, 

Min-ne-ko-ma list'ning stood; 
Was it then an evil omen that a star down 

through the heavens 
Swept and fell into the wood? 

"As 0-jet-ka in the shadow of a hemlock 

stood a watching 
Came a sound as of a pigeon from a thicket 

to the west ; 
Then out in the space and moonlight Thay- 

en-daga stepped, and clasped his 
Min-ne-ko-ma to his breast ! 

"At the sight 0-jet-ka's heart with anger 
burned, and quick an arrow 

He let fly; but Min-ne-ko-ma saw him, and 
like lightning-flash 

She her lover's head struck downward, and 
the arrow whistled harmless 

By, and shivered in an ash ! 



64 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS, 

'' Then out from his ambush, quickly, toma- 
hawk in hand, 0-jet-ka 

Sprang, and, whirHng it in air, he at his 
rival let it fly; 

But too late, for Thay-en-da-ga, tall and 
sj)ringy as a cedar. 

Leaped aside, and it whistled by ! 

" Then, as leaps the forked lightning from a 

cloud high in the heavens, 
Thay-en-da-ga leaped upon his foe with a 

defiant yell ; 
And who fell before him, as the oak before 

a furious whirlwind. 
Sweeping on from fell to fell ! 

"On the greensward fell 0-jet-ka, with 
blood streaming from his nostrils ; 

With his eyes fixed on his conq'ror, thus 
O-jet-ka met his death ! 

As beside him Thay-en-da-ga stood with 
foot upon his bosom. 

Waiting for his latest breath, — 

"Lo, six Ir-o-quois, returning from a month 

of hunting in the 
Forests, fell on Thay-en-da-ga! Fierce he 

fought, and bravely, but 
Soon was overpowered. Then they with 

their cruel, raw-hide, deer-thongs 
Bound him tightly hand and foot ! 

" And they took him up to carry him unto 

the Indian village. 
While sweet Min-ne-ko-ma followed them 

with heavy heart and sad. 



MIN-NE-KO-MA. 65 

Life for life she feared her people would 

demand of the brave Huron, 
And the thought it made her mad ! 

" 'Ne'er the fierce wolves of the mountain, 
nor the soaring vultures, shall e'er 

Own him as their helpless quarry long as 
life is given me ! 

They who take his life must take mine, and 
if the Great Spirit help me, 

He, sometime, shall yet be free ! 

" 'And shall build for me a wigwam on the 

banks of some fair river, 
And the red -deer of the forest he shall hunt 

aud bring to me! 
There I'll cook for him and help him shape 

and build a light canoe from 
The bark of the white birch tree ! 

"'Where they take him will I follow; 

through the night-time will I guard 

him ; 
And by hand of my own people he shall 

never, never die I ' 
Thus she swore, the dusky maiden, thus she 

swore, the dark-haired maiden. 
With clenched hand and blazing eye. 

"Through the far-receding forest, through 
the forest wild and vacant. 

Loud the night-bird's cry went ringing, and 
soft came the echo back ; 

While the moon, low in the heavens, faintly 
smiled upon the mountains 

And the dreary woodland track. 



66 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

"Onward tow'rcl the Indian village fol- 
lowed Mln-ne-ko-ma vslowly; 

While, adown the darkened valley, she 
beheld the bright camp-fire — 

Saw its bright flames leaping upward, up- 
ward higher than the laurels. 

Than the pines and hemlocks higher. 

"Loud the murmurs of the warriors, seated 
round the blazing camp-fire. 

When the Huron, Thay-en-da-ga, bound 
both hand and foot, was brought, 

And was placed within their circle, and was 
told them how he fiercely 

For 0-jet-ka's life had sought. 

"In their council they decided that a mur- 

d'rer was the Huron. 
Match-e-dash arose then, saying : 'We to 

him a chance will give 
For his life. Upon the morrow he shall run 

the gantlet, and if 
Then he dies not he shall live I ' 

"So they bound him to a pine tree, and on 
guard they placed three warriors ; 

While, in vain, watched Min-ne-ko-ma for 
a chance to set him free. 

Yes, in vain, for those gaiards slept not I so, 
with fears and strange misgivings, 

For the morning waited she. 

"Westward, westward swept the morning, 
and the bright sun, Gheezis,^ rising, 

Set the clouds on fire with crimson, and 
through forests shot his speai?3, 
* Gheezis is the Indian word for sun. 



m1n-ne-k6-ma. 67 

Breaking through the shields of shadows, 
who with haste fled through the hol- 
lows, 

Hard pressed by his cavaliers. 

"From the wigwams came the children, 

came the squaws, and came the 

maidens. 
Shouting, laughing, and deriding, for the 

cruel sport * to see. 
There, in two long lines, the warriors face 

to face formed, while between them 
Was a space of paces three. 

'' Armed they were with stiff blunt lances, 
and with green rods and light war- 
clubs, 

With which they could beat the runner that 
must run betwixt their lines. 

Motionless they stood, and waiting, with their 
feathered helmets tossing 

To the winds that swept the pines. 

" Like a circle of flame behind them blazed 
and flamed the red horizon. 

And a hundred suns seemed gazing on them 
from the burning skies ; 

While from dismal, dank, wet moorlands, 
from its thickets of red -willow, 

Came the wild swans' mournful cries. 

"Then the guards led out the Huron, 
stripped him naked, save his breech- 
cloth 

And his moccasins, and placed him at their 

head; while, proudly, he, 

* This sport, running the gantlet, was often indulged 
in by the aborigines when captives were taken. 



68 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Like a Eoman gladiator waiting for the 

hungry Hons, 
Stood and faced that company ! 

"As he anxiously looked 'round him, on the 
crowd of laughing women, 

He amongst a group of maidens saw his 
Min-ne-ko-ma stand ; 

As he fixed his gaze upon her not a nerve 
or muscle quivered, 

Save he tighter clenched his hand. 

" When the old chief gave the signal, quickly 
then the guards released him, 

And closed up the gap behind him. Then 
their line unto the left 

Suddenly he leaped, and tow'rds the bluff 
that bounds the river sped he 

Like a deer, leaping chasm and cleft. 

"At his daring, for a moment, all his foes 

were struck with wonder ; 
Only for a moment ; then they, spreading out, 

gave chase to him. 
Like a leopard through the jungle, onward 

leaped he tow'rds the river, 
Straining ev'ry nerve and limb. 

" Thay-en-da-ga reached the sheer bluffs far 

ahead of his pursuers. 
And, with loud yell of defiance, sprang into 

the waters green. 
As his foes, half-crazed with anger, o'er the 

jagged crags peered downward, 
Nowhere was he to be seen. 



MfN-NE-KO-MA. 69 

" Some in ambush hid, while others hurried 

up and down the river, 
Searching ev'ry cleft and hollow, yet found 

not a trace of him ; 
Thought they then that he was lying 

drowned within the river, or had, 
Unseen, swam adown the stream. 

" In great shame the baffled warriors, chaffed 
by all their squaws and children. 

Ere the evening, left the river, and unto 
their camp returned. 

That the Huron without torture had died 
glad was MIn-ne-ko-ma, 

Though she greatly for him mourned. 

'' Through the fields and through the forests, 
when the birds were singing gayly. 

In the Moon of Flow'rs* were singing, ev'ry 
day she wandered forth ; 

All alone she wandered, weeping, while the 
great trees whispered softly : 

^Let your sorrow give place to mirth!' 

" And oft she in her canoe would float upon 

the sluggish river, 
Eank with flags and water-lilies, and with 

reeds and rushes green, 
Lighted by the fitful firef that all the ghosts 

of dead men kindle. 
And the moon the clouds between. 



* " Moon of Flowers" — June. 

f This refers to the will-o'-the-wisp, etc., seen near 
graveyards and in swampy places. (Phosphuretted hy- 
drogen, formed by the decomposition of bones and 
organic substances, remarkable for its igniting sponta- 
neously on coming to the air. ) 



70 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

"Three moons passed; and then the Au- 
tumn, with her crimson leaves and 
sunshine, 

From the northern land came stealing 
through the forest from afar ! 

While in fields the tall maize, ripened, stood 
in all its yellow plumage 

Eeady for the harvester. 

"In the crisp and mellow mornings, bright 
with sunshine, to the maize-fields 

Gathered there the squaws and maidens for 
to garner the golden grain. 

While the old men and the young men, 
seated in their wigwams, listened 

To the reapers' glad refrain. 

" One bright morn, instead of going to the 
maize-field, Min-ne-ko-ma 

Wandered off unto the forest, to the try sting- 
place of yore ; 

There she stood a long time moaning: 
'Thay-en-da-ga, Thay-en-da-ga 1 

Shall I see you nevermore? 

" ' Wheresoe'er I go before me spring the 

bees, the honey gath'rers; 
And in sheltered, sunny places bloom the 

flowers fair to see. 
What to me the bees and flowers! What 

to me the brilliant forests, 
If thou, love, no longer be I' 

"And the winds, her guardian angels, kiss- 
ing her bronze cheeks and forehead. 

And with their small, shapely fingers comb- 
ing her dark unbound hair, 



MIN-NE-KO-MA. 71 

Softly whispered words of comfort ; and the 

birds, in their sweet language, 
Bid her never to despair ! 

"As she there stood, sadly musing, came the 
coo as of a pigeon ; 

Then from a near thicket Thay-en-da-ga 
stepped out silently. 

When she saw 'twas not his spirit, but him- 
self, she quickly bounded 

To his side with a glad cry ! 

"As he led her to a safe place where to hide 

until the evening, 
Told her how into the river he had leaped, 

and how again 
He arose and climbed up quickly to a cave 

unknown but to him. 
And how fearful he had lain 

" There till night, and his pursuers, all, had 
left; then how he made good 

His escape unto his people, dwelling near 
the Great Lake's side; 

Also, told her how his boat was waiting, and 
how he had come back 

For to claim her as his bride ! — 

"Min-ne-ko-ma's heart was melted, and 
when Night a sable mantle 

Threw across the shimmering landscape, she 
with the brave Huron down 

The still river, in his birch -boat, glided, wak- 
ing not the heron 

In the marshes dank and lone. 



72 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

" All next day her father's warriors searched 
in vain, but, with great cunning, 

Tracked them o'er bare rocks and through 
the forests to the river ; and 

There, among the reeds and rushes, found 
marks of a boat, and a chieftain's 

Totem lying on the sand. 

" Match-e-dash well knew this token, for he 

said: 'Alas, a Huron 
Chieftain has borne off my daughter! has 

borne off my only child ! 
Sweet her laugh was as the wind's among 

the wild flow'rs in the morning. 
Or at eve, amid the wild ! 

"'Pride of my aged heart, where art thouV 
Thou the wild flow 'r of the forest! 

Thou with eyes so meek and fawn-like ! 0, 
my child, where hast thou gone? 

In the Moon when Leaves are Falling, " in the 
moon when nights are brightest, 

Why didst thou leave me alone? 

" 'Like yon blasted cedar, ready for the tem- 
pest, am I! As yon shining river 
darkens 

Now as Night her robes spread o'er it, am I ! 
0, my child ! my child ! 

Brothers, let us with the Hurons make a 
peace, for they are mighty, 

And 'tis best to be reconciled!' 

* " Moon AVhen Leaves are Falling"— September. 



THE OLD RED MILL. 73 

"Next moon sent he all the wise men of his 
tribe with gifts of wampum, 

And of furs, unto the Hurons dwelling near 
the Great fresh Lake. 

Thay-en-da-ga, then their head chief, in 
return sent back kind words and 

Gifts for MIn-ne-ko-ma's sake. 

"All were happy then, and peace was thus 
established 'twixt the nations. 

For a long time were they friendly, until 
o'er the ocean came 

The white race of people bringing their 
superior civilization. 

Destined men and wilds to tame." 



"THE OLD EED MILL." 

Scorched by the summer sun's bright light, 
Like sleeping warrior lies the hill; 

And minuting the swift hours' flight, 
The shadows lengthen by the mill ! 

The noon has passed ; the sky is clear. 
Save here and there a fleck of cloud ; 

The clanking of the mill-wheel near 
Alone disturbs the quietude ! 

The maple leaves are motionless. 
The winds asleep within the sky, 

Alone, the miller's bonny lass 

Sits dreaming of the days gone by. 

Where willows form a shady place. 

Seated upon a granite pier, 
Is she the Undine of the race, 

The water-nymph that millers fear? 



74 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

No mountain torrent have we here 

That turns the old mill's pond'rous wheel, 

But a small stream which in despair 
Struggles in vain with stone and steel. 

Over the top-stones of the dam 
A thin white sheet of water pours, 

Forming small eddies which whirl and jam 
Against the reeds that line the shores. 

Beneath a spreading cottonwood 

The milFs broad door wide open stands; 

And on an old bench, carved and rude. 
The miller sits with folded hands. 

These words the miller keeps in place : 
"God pity him who is a shirk!" 

And day by day his smiling face 

Proclaims success crowneth his work. 

The miller hath an eye for all 

The beauties of the summer day — 

The glorious sky, the mountains tall. 

And flow'rs that deck the woodland way. 

His motto this : " It is not pence 

That man alone should strive to win ! 

Just work and trust, and Providence 
With grain will surely fill thy bin !" 

God hath His teachers ev'ry where! 

We cannot run amiss of good, 
Nor of His love and tender care, 

'Though 'mid the wildest solitude. 

0, Johnson, of the ''Old Eed Mill," 
Thou'rt one of Nature's noblemen ! 

Let come what may, though good or ill, 
If ill, thy faith shines brighter then. 



THE OLD TURNPIKE ROAD. 75 

Wisdom will sometime clear our eyes, 
And, ay ! we then will see, forsooth, 

The beauty that e'er underlies 
Each pointed, well-directed truth. 



THE OLD TURNPIKE ROAD. 
Through sand and clay the old road brings 

One straight unto the sloping hills. 
By meadow where the fountain springs. 

By grove where sweet the wild -bird trills ! 
The strong-limbed wind, that herds the 
storms. 

Sweeps down across the rutted way, 
Hurling the dust in cloud-like forms 

On high as doth a child at play. 

Light, trembling shades sweep o'er the 
grain ; 

Afar the dip of higher leaves ; 
Then lower dips ; then level plain. 

Through which its course the old road 
weaves. 
Then farther, 'neath the haze's woof 

Spun from the sunlight and the green, 
The old inn's slanting, shingled roof 

And gables show the trees between. 

O'er gravel, stones, and sharp-horned rocks. 

The streamlet plunges in swift cascade. 
Tossing its long and whitened locks 

Against the pines that clothe the glade. 
And there the mill stands by the road 

With faded sign above the door : 
The waiting teams with heavy load 

Within its yard are seen no more. 



?6 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Beside the bridge, the toll-gate stands; 

And there within his dingy room, 
The toll-man sits with folded hands. 

Awaiting the few teams that come. 
With sunken eyes and furrowed brow, 

Bent form and long white hair and gray, 
From out his chair he rises slow. 

Then comes to the window for his pay. 

Though men desert thee, ancient road. 

The birds and fair-eyed flow'rs do not! 
For thou art fringed by golden-rod, 

A wond'rous fringe by fairies wrought! 
Though thou art vanquished, yet, I pray 

That my last days may be like thine! 
That o'er my sunset, golden way 

Eternal love and goodness shine ! 

Sweet Nature lays her choicest gifts 

Upon the altar of the heart ; 
And she the veil of doubting lifts. 

And shows to us life's better part. 
Farewell, farewell, thou ancient road ! 

Thou land-mark of the time that's gone! 
We are remembered by the good 

Only that we through life have done ! 



THE EABBI'S VISION. 

One summer morning. Rabbi Ben Isaac 

strode 
His ass, and forth from famed Ecbat'ana 

rode. 
His many daily cares oppressed his mind ; 
He needed rest ; he rode that rest to find. 



THE RABBFS VISION. 77 

Long had he labored for the good of men, 
Now felt the weight of three-score years and 

ten. 
The Eabbi was a good man, wise and great, 
Beloved by men of high and low estate. 
As he rode slowly down the dusty street, 
Chanting a hymn of David's, low and sweet, 
The little birds upon the olive limbs 
Awoke the echoes with their joyous hymns. 
It was the harvest time. From fields he heard 
Men say," Behold, the good man of the Lord !'* 
That men thus spake of liim, it pleased him 

best. 
Kind words from loving friends cheereth the 

breast. 
He rode until far were Ecbat 'ana's tow'rs. 
And from mid-heav'n the sun flung golden 

show'rs. 
So hot the noon, and not a cooling breeze, 
He halted in a grove of sycamore trees. 
As he dismounted from his ass, the sound 
Of steps behind he heard. He looked around, 
And, lo, a stranger with a sword, drew near! 
The startled Eabbi felt a sudden fear. 
For many were the tales, he'd heard of late, 
Of robb'ries done in sight of the city's gate. 
"Who art thou, stranger? And what dost 

thou, pray," 
The Eabbi asked, "desire of me to-day?" 
The stranger frowned, and raised his flam- 
ing brand, 
At which Ben Isaac knelt upon the sand. 
And as he bowed low, opened were his eyes ; 
He saw the angel in the stranger's guise. 



78 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The angel's robes, before the Rabbi's gaze, 
Changed to pure white, while light o'erspread 

his face. 
Then from high heav'n a voice spake loud 

and clear: 
"My son, Ben Isaac, spare yet one more 

year!" 
At which the angel dropped his flaming 

sword. 
And said "Thy mandate I obey, Lord!" 
Then to Ben Isaac : "Pray, canst thou not 

tell 
My name, Eabbi? It is Azrael!" 
And then was gone. The Eabbi arose, and 

strode 
His ass, and slowly tow'ds Ecbat^ana rode. 
No godlier man than he did ever dwell, 
For one brief year in all of Israel ! 



OCTOBER. 

SONNET. 

A BEAUTIFUL wild queen came up the glade. 
Whence Summer, wounded in her love, 

had fled. 
Bright was the crown this queen wore on 
her head. 
And sweet, the smiles that o'er her fair face 

played ! 

By woodland ways, where'er she listless 

strayed, 

The tender leaflets turned to gold and red, 

While, by the stream, Pan on his mossy bed 

To her on mellow pipes sweet music made. 



ODE TO FANCY. 79 

We could not look upon her loveiy face 

Without a feeling that her love was ours, 
For her sweet smiles caused through our 
veins to race 
A new life's flood to guard against Death's 
powers. 
Yet, as she journeyed tow'rds the sunset- 
lands, 
The flowers we loved, from us she carried 
in her hands. 



ODE TO FANCY. 

To-night the cold west winds begin to rise, 
And roar across the sunset bay. 
The last red leaf is whirled away 

From the proud elm, and cheerless are the 
skies. 

The ice-bound stream goes murm'ring down 
the hill. 
While, on the moor and frosty lea 
And ruined tow'r and lofty tree, 

A few pale, sickly sunbeams linger still. 

The sound of bells comes from a distant fold ; 

The rooks have sought the shelf ring fens; 

On pastured steeps, in wooded glens, 
November's robbed the earth of all her gold ! 
Slowly, like smoke from an Indian fun'ral 
pyre, 

A cloud arises from the west, 

And topples 'round with crimson breast — 
A phoenix tinged with sunset's brilliant 
fire! 



80 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The day is past ; faint gleam the nebulous 
bars; 
From eastern realms, along the ground, 
The dark night steals without a sound ; 

While Uranus stands aloft, among the stars, 

Beck'ning unto those countless hosts to light 
Their brilliant torches, and to throng 
His way. At his command, along 

The nebulous highlands gleam their torches 
bright ! 

quiet hour that Fancy loves ! Blest hour 
When down the golden vista of 
Our dreams she quick doth move, 

Making our minds to own her sov'rign pow'r ! 

Like unto watchers in a ball-room gay. 
That sit, half -dazed, watching the feet 
Of dancers moving to the music sweet. 

We sit and watch the scenes which Fancy 
doth display ! 

0, Fancy, charming maid ! lead me where 
Pale, tear-eyed Sorrow cannot come ! 
Beside some stream whose waters hum 

Sweet ballads as they fall from stair to stair ! 

Or, where low gales moan through the track- 
less wood 
Full-foliaged, and which reply 
With softer, sweeter symphony ! 

There Melancholy dare not to intrude ! 

lead me where amid the quiet vale 
The lakelet lies in calm repose. 
And on whose banks the sweet wild rose 

At evening sighs unto the nightingale ! 



ODE TO FANCY. 81 

There would I linger 'neath some sylvan 
shade, 
^And watch the sluggish, slimy snail 
Creep o'er his dusty, moonlit trail. 

While loud the beetles drone within the glade ! ' 

charming maid ! Thee do I love to meet 
As oft, when summer nights are still. 
The ruined church upon the hill 

1 seek, and trace its walls with restless feet ; 
Or, when, within its yard, on marble stone, 

I pass the solitary hour 
While loud within the ivied tow'r 
" The mottled owl complains unto the moon !" 

Thy presence I invoke these autumn eves 
Whene'er I seek that ancient pile ; 
And hear the blasts sweep through the 
aisle, 
Rustling the inblown piles of sere, crisp 

leaves, 
(While, loud without, fierce Boreas stamps 
the ground, 
Impatient with his followers. 
And beats the hail, and steady pours 
The rain upon the roof with dreary sound.) 

Lured by the splendors of thy magic torch. 
Mine eyes follow thy lovely form 
At noon -tide calm, or night of storm. 

Or when I sit at morn 'neath vine-clad porch ! 

O Fancy ! Oft for me thy hand doth trace 
The busy peasant at the plow. 
The herd returning from the brow 

Of some sharp hill to better pasture place. 



82 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Oft thou dost trace the lowly setting sun, 

The laborer leading his horse 

Adown the steep, shunning the gorse, 
Glad in his heart that the day's work is done, 
Glad as his boy who by his side doth walk, 

Shouting and laughing for his joy! 

Glad as his fair-haired, youngest boy 
Who. runs ahead, yet never stops his talk. 

Oft thou dost trace home scenes, the blaz- 
ing hearth, 
The father holding on his knee 
His happy, red-cheeked children three, 

The frugal board, laden with fruits of earth, 

Which the good-wife has spread for to ap- 
pease 
The hunger of her weary groom, 
Who sits and glances 'round the room. 

Thankful at heart for the tidioess he sees. 

Oft thou dost trace the cozy ingle-side 
Within whose shelter children stand. 
While, near, with Bible in his hand, 

The father sits and turns with honest pride 

Its leaves, and reads some passage quaint 
and rare, 
(Perhaps the history of some saint. 
Or psalm, or faithful Job's meek plaint). 

After which they all sing, then kneel m 
pray 'r. 

I fear, Fancy, thou wouldst pour too 
strong. 

Too vivid hues o'er the rich man's home! 

'Tis true that Want can not there come; 
But is the rich man given more to wrong. 



ODE TO FANCY. 83 

Than is the faithful peasant at the plow, 
The architect drawing alone 
The plans for vast cathed'ral of stone, 

Or the poor mason, toiling with sweaty 
brow? 

I would not say the rich man loves not God ! 
But the poor peasant, with but hands 
And portion small of all our lands. 

And whom Want often beats with iron rod, 

Lives nearer to the heart of our dear Lord, 
For he doth feel his helplessness. 
And knows that God alone will bless ! 

Hath not Christ promised this much in his 
word? 

Oft Fancy, thou dost trace the village 
school, — 
The pretty school-house by the way, 
The stern old Master bent and gray 
Beside the desk, teaching each well-proved 

rule. 
The aisles, the benches rude, some carved, 
some not. 
The childish faces ranged a-row 
Some hateful, dull, and some aglow 
With modest, sweet simplicity of thought ! 

varied are the scenes which thou dost throw 

Upon the canvas of the mind. 

Dainty pastoral scenes combined 
With tragic, city scenes of want and woe ! 
Some hold that Happiness gives unto Death 

Its cruel sting : if that be so. 

Then, Fancy, closer unto you, 
I'll cling! The soul is never harmed by 
Death! 



84 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

All hail, sweet Fancy ! Meek-eyed Goddess, 
hail! 
In thee, combustions poesy 
Needs but the torch to set it free ! 
All hail to thee ! Thou meek-eyed Goddess, 

hail! 
Of old, thou dwelt upon the heav'nly heights. 
With thunders breaking at thy feet 
From out the clouds which there did meet. 
While all around thee shook the starry 
lights ! 

There thou once dwelt, a handmaid unto 
God! 
It was thy plan which God did take 
When He, from naught, this world did 
make! 
Because Man sinned, thou left thy fair abode 
And came to earth to teach, and to distill 
In him a loftier desire, 
And, on his soul to trace with fire 
Heav'n scenes — God's realm and "City on 
the Hill!" 



THE COMING OF WINTER. 

Proud Autumn, shorn of all her glory, 

Lies prone at Winter's feet. 
Who stands with streaming locks and hoary 

Where mountain torrents meet. 

The white-winged messengers are falling 
From heav'n 's gray arches down, 

In answer to the strong winds calling 
From uplands bare and brown. 



LANDSCAPE. 85 

Heavii's heart is sad, because she loses 

Both bird and insect forms ; 
And she, for this chief sorrow, chooses 

To veil her face with storms. 

The ice -sheathed oak, now grim and barren, 

Deep-rooted in the mold. 
Shows age, as doth some miser baron 

Wrinkled and gray and old. 

Alas ! how diff 'rent are the visions 

That greet our anxious eyes. 
To those of Spring, when from their prisons 

Earth's fairy millions rise! 

Still, music wild and sweet goes sounding 
Through you, O winter woods ! — • 

Wild music of the north-winds bounding 
Through leafless solitudes ! 

Our hearts, familiar with the greeting, 

Still are not comforted ! 
We long for Spring and her fond meeting 

With her resurrected dead ! 

swiftly glide away our pleasures ! 

We strive in vain with sighs 
To win again the Past's rich treasures — 

The Present's we do not prize ! 



LANDSCAPE. 

(in winter.) 
Night ^s shadows climb the mountain wall, 

While day dies in the golden west. 
From clouds, a few white snow-flakes fall 

Within the robin's empty nest. 



86 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The wan moon sinks behind a cloud ; 

The peasant feels the icy chill, 
And turns again unto the road, 

And seeks his cottage on the hill. 

The strong-limbed wind is hoarse with grief ; 

Strange voices fill the deep, stern wood, 
The pathos of the falling leaf, 

And moan of pines beside the flood. 
^Woodsy and wild and cold and lone 

To east, to west, to north and south ! 
Only the little village down 

At th' tawny river's ice-rimmed mouth. ' 

But yesterday, the sulky year 

First saw the snowy tempest fly ; 
Hushed was the music of the air. 

Frozen the streams that wandered by. 
How like the landscape, cold and drear. 

The stricken heart that knows not God ! 
Devoid of conscience, filled with fear. 

And wand 'ring far from faith's bright 
road! 

Alas, unmindful of their doom, 

Behold the helpless victims play ! 
They have no fear of ills to come, 

No other care beyond to-day ! 
Better to work with hand and heart. 

Than sit, half dazed, in idle ease; 
To do is but the nobler part ; 

The laborer's reward is peace! 

happier the peasant, far. 

From Passion's cruel bonds set free, 
Who breathes the cool, sweet mountain air 

And dwells with rugged Poverty, 



A WINTER WALK. 87 

For, when is o'er his weary task, 

He hies him to his humble cot, 
And there in home's sweet smiles to bask 

Without a care or anxious thought ! 

From toil he wins a sweet repose. 

While Joy attends his steps the while. 
''Rich, from the want of wealth," he knows 

That he will win from heav'n a smile. 
Content with what one's lot may be 

Makes life one sweet and endless psalm, 
For just beyond life's sunset sea 

The angels show heav'n's borders calm! 



A WINTER WALK. 

The stillness is unbroke. 
Save by the clarion of the breeze 
Sounding amongst the leafless trees, 
Of maple, beach, and oak. 
Which stand like Druids on the hills around. 

A dazzling splendor shines 
On all, and tempts my eager feet. 
I leave the village' trodden street 
For avenue of pines, 
And open fields fenced by rude chestnut 
rails. 

Upon each white -banked hill 
The morning sun's keen lances break; 
And, blown from the sky's airy lake, 

Like feathers, soft and still. 
The frost-lakes fall to earth as messengers. 



88 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The songs of Spring are sweet, 
And sweet the Summer's gentle gale, 
But sweeter from the wintry vale 

The rill's song by my feet 
Like chime of silver bells by elfins rung ! 

Not undelightful now 
To tread the sparkling wild moor o'er, 
And dream the mermaid's dream of door 
Beneath the sea, that slow 
Swings, and through which each mortal soul 
must pass! 

With kindled heart, I pace 
The leafless forest's ample round. 
And hear the rabbits lightly bound, 

And from the mountain chase 
The bay of hounds upon the fox's trail. 

What miracle is here? 
What artist's hand has deftly wrought 
This frost-robe? And what nymph has 
brought 
These jewels to the Year 
Who stands like some proud Viking by his 
throne? 
The spangled branches shine ; 
The moss has many a hue upon 
The bark of trees or flinty stone, 
Where clings the wild -grape vine ; 
While on the holly clustered berries hang I 

The alders by the stream. 
Clad in bright mail, stand rank on rank; 
While armored reeds, anear each bank, 
On which the sunbeams gleam, 
Lift up their oriflammes to greet the winds. 



A WINTER WALK. 89 

One instant to the day, 
Then lost beneath its icy case, 
The stream's swift currents madly race 
Adown the rocky way ; 
Yet, through the ice, I see the grasses wave. 

The drooping pines sing low 
In answer to the west wind's call. 
While from their boughs the jewels fall 

Upon the ice below 
With tinkling sound like unseen dulcimers. 

The chopper's ax I hear 
Eing out within the level wood, 
While one lone crow sits cawing loud 

Upon a hemlock near. 
The loneliness breathes peace unto my soul. 

I welcome every sound 
Borne on the hollow, frosty air — 
The crackling of the beech limbs bare. 
The rustling sere leaves found 
Upon tne saplings small like wind-blown 
shreds. 

At foot of yon bare knoll, 
The lengthened cedar shadows throw 
Their pale thin forms along the snow, 
Like ghosts upon a stroll. 
As tow'rds the west slow moves the winter 
sun. 

Eefiection loves these hours, 
When Nature, hid from present sight, 
Bids not the fields to open bright. 
Nor bloom the fair wild-flow 'rs. 
Through winter days she sleeps away her 
cares ! 



90 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Lo ! as I walk, ahead 
The forest opens like a door ! 
Above, the skies ! below, the floor 

O'er which I lightly tread, 
And proudly feel that Nature makes me king ! 

'Eebuke me not, heav'n! 
Eeproach me not, stainless fields, 
If thy own purity reveals 

One's state with sins forgiv'n!' 
Reproach me not, if I but covet it ! 

Here, by the forest's edge, 
Is where the squire's poor daughter, Jane, 
Last met young Tim, ere o'er the main 

He sailed away. His pledge 
He kept not, and she saw not him again. 

Deranged, she often came 
Unto this virgin forest's side. 
Or to yon brown rick's shelter wide. 

And loud would call his name. 
Ay, it was sad to hear her frenzied grief ! 

More hopeless grew her case ; 
Then they her to the mad -house sent. 
And there five fearful years she spent. 
And then she died. The place 
They buried her is 'neath yon spreading 
elm. 

Each shrub and briery hedge. 
Each dogwood clump and drooping fern, 
With silver rays flash, as I turn 

And pass beneath the ledge 
Iced by the waters from the trickling rill. 



A WINTER WALK. 91 

Here o'er the southern ridge 
The river rolls with noiseless zest 
Unto the distant, hazy west, 
And as, upon the bridge 
I stand and lean upon the railing strong, 

Fair seems the level land ! 
From white to gray the marshes fade 
As westward moves the sapphire shade 
By snowy dunes like sand, 
And clumps of willows, birches, and red- 
elms ! 

The shoes of passing sleigh 
Grate on the bare, brown planks; while 

down 
Upon the ice, the boys put on 
Their skates ; and then away 
They swiftly glide, while lightly ring their 
steels. 

The river's banks shine bright 
With polished armor, which, with skill. 
The Frost Elves, with their hammers still, 
Forge in the long cold night. 
And 'gainst which break the lances of the 
sun. 

I love the pensive song 
That floats triumphant from the lips 
Of earth ! I love the heights and dips 

And levels that belong 
Unto the highlands of my native land ! 

They ask why these bleak hills 
I love, and why to them I cling ; 
Why loves the moss the woodland spring? 



92 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Or smooth stones in the rills? 
Why clings it to the lordly mountain oak? 

Often, for other lands, 
My heart breaks out in wild desire ; 
And when is lit the sunset's fire, 
Fond Fancy shows the sands 
Of Italy, washed by the great sea's 
waves ! 

And then my eyes do fill 
With tears, and, sad, I turn away 
Unto the eastern skies of gray. 
And dark pine-skirted hill, 
Glad that my feet stand on New England 
soil. 

Who loves not our dear land. 
Oft bound with winter's gyves of frost? 
Of her prosperity I boast, 

And feel the strong right hand 
Of Freedom's mine, gift from my Pilgrim 
sires ! 

Beside the beaten way, 
How stiff each mullein holds its head ; 
While sumachs, with their berries red, 
Backward and forward sway ! 
Not without grace the thistle's spiky form! 

The snow has sifted down 
In ev'ry nook and hollow small; 
Likewise, in all our hearts shall fall — 
Though they are grieved and lone — 
Some grains of love, sown by God's own 
right hand ! 



A WINTER WALK. 93 

Within these souls of ours, 
Perchance, are buds of higher birth 
Which, in due time, will fill the earth 

With bright and fragrant flow'rs, 
As will the sleeping ones beneath the snow. 

Anear, the village gleams 
Along the hill. From chimneys red, 
Thin clouds of smoke float overhead. 

Then down the airy streams 
Are swiftly driven to the farthest blue. 

My home, it will remain 
About the same after I go 
The common way. These streams will 
flow 
Across the wintry plain 
Till many future generations pass ! 

With heart more firm and true, 
I go back to my usual task, 
Yet with a heart not loth to ask 

Of heav'n for strength to do 
Of good work that awaits the willing hand. 

How sweet at evening's close. 
When for the day one 's task is o'er, 
To seek again the welcome door 
For to commune with those 
One deems far dearer than his own sweet 
life. 
Contentment gives to such 
As ever in her footsteps move 
The choicest gift of living — love ; 
Nor does she overmuch 
Ask of her many faithful followers. 



94 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

A lover's claim I hold 
On all this glorious land of ours ; 
I love the season of the fiow'rs; 

I prize the winter cold, 
For snowy fields are not unglorious ! 

All things are born of God ! 
Then let the Storm-King's trumpets blow, 
And thus announce the coming snow ! 

For surely from the sod 
Shall spring to life those who in bondage lie ! 

And I will trust that He, 
Who chains the fury of each storm, 
And bids the changing seasons form, 

Will mould the destiny 
Of our dear land, and firm establish j^eace. 



FEIAR JOHN. 

CHRISTMAS TALE OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY 

The full moon, like a silver shield 

Suspended in the starry field, 
Upon the convent brightly shone ; 
And far the convent's shapely tow'rs 
Eeflected were on the snowy sward. 
While on their eagle-wings the hours 
Passed on to usher in the day — 
The anniversary of our Lord ! 

Now in the convent brightly burned 
The Yule-logs on the blackened hearth, 
While to the banquet room with mirth 
And song the jolly friars turned ; 
And soon around the festal board 
They gathered, a goodly band ! 



FRIAR JOHN. 95 

" Pray, do we owe aught to the Lord, 

If so, now let us that debt pay 

For our December's all too brief 

For us to hope to shrive away 

All sins we've committed in our May!" 

So spake good friar John, and they 

For a brief space were filled with grief. 

But their penitence but transient was. 

And merrier they as the wine went round, 

And coarser and sharper the jests they 

sent. 
And louder and louder their applause 
To the minstrel's song and accompaniment. 

Now of all his brothers friar John 

By far was the fairest to look upon, 

And he was less, than they, of earth ; 

And as he sat with head bowed down 

And joining not in their jests and mirth. 

He thought, "Shall I e'er with these eyes 

Behold the Christ in Paradise, 

And gaze on Mary as she sits adored 

At the feet of her Son and risen Lord? 

Is my soul as white as the driven snow 

On the convent's roof and the fields below? 

Daily, I've tried to walk with God, 

But rough and thorny has been my road ! 

But 0, I shall be satisfied 

In His shadow only to abide!" 

Then his ears were filled with music sweet, 
And he heard the tread of angel feet ; 
And he saw their forms in the mystic light 
That shone o'er the walls and around him 
bright. 



96 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

And he thought, " Are we not creatures of 

dust, 
For sooner or later die we must ! 
'As commg events cast their shadows be- 
fore, ' 
Death's shadows we see in the flush of the 

flow'r! 
E'er a moon be past, its petals are gone; 
And what remains but the seed alone ! 
Now with Man the seed is his good work 

done, 
And his soul, the flow'r fair to look upon. 
Man's life is limited; yea, is brief; 
And I liken it to the maple-leaf 
Which slowly pales, touched by the rime 
That chills and kills in the autumn-time; 
As the cold north-wind sweeps through the 

tree. 
It gently falls, and is swept o'er the lea! 
Yea, life's like a cloud that proudly floats 

down 
From the wind-swept space of the horizon, 
And onward which floats — like a thing of 

might — 
O'er valley and plain, and mountain-height, 
But soon is engulfed in the boundless sea 
And so is life in eternity ! 

"0, long have we fought the Paynim horde, 
For Truth and Eight, and our dear Lord ! 
And our cities are drenched with Christian 

blood. 
For sustaining the cross, and the Word of 

God. 



FRIAR JOHN. 97 

But naught doth avail the VandaFs fire — 

The Hghted torch falls from his hand 

Unto the ground, there to expire ; 

While through our wide and fruitful land 

Our warriors, a noble brotherhood, 

Like a wall unsurmountable, stand. 

But how long must Peace be sustained with 

blood, 
How long, Lord, how long, God!" 

And thus as he mused, before his gaze 
Fair visions passed of youthful days. 
He saw the pastures, where half asleep 
In shade of the grove lay the well-fed sheep, 
And, near to the foot of the wind-swept hill. 
The sheep-cote, and the murmuring rill ; 
And farther down the quiet glade 
Where the groves of lindens spread their 

shade. 
Half hid from view by their large green 

leaves, 
The cottage, low with its sloping eaves. 
And his mother's voice he seemed to hear. 
That humble home of his youth within ; 
And he saw the honeysuckles peer 
Through the windows small and the ivy 

green ; 
And he caught the breath of the violet, 
And the rose, and the fragrant mignonette. 
And he heard from the top of the linden 

tree, 
'In his pulpit half hid by the dark green 

leaves, 
"The robin, the abbot of that wood," 
Chanting his anthem clear and loud ! 



98 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

And friar John felt, as fell each tear 

From his eyes, that heav'n and God were 

near ! 
And long he sat, till from the tow'r 
The hells chimed out the midnight hour, 
And the holy Christmas day had come ! 
Then he slowly arose without a sound 
And tightly his homespun cloak he drew 
His slender shivering form around. 
And noiselessly stole from the banquet room. 
Through the lonely cloister dark with night, 
Trimming his feeble, flickering light. 
And murmuring, " God, how can Man be 
A slave to Passion, and a servant to Thee! " 
He moved with measured steps and slow ! 

The chapel was dark, but for the light 

From the candles on the altar's height, 

When friar John opened the door. 

And slowly walked o'er the marble floor 

Unto the crucifix ; and there. 

Knelt down, and told his beads in pray'rl 

And as he prayed for his brothers all, 

And the sinful world, and his own soul. 

Like a lightning's flash, a blinding flame 

Swept through the chapel; and an angel 

came 
With shining robes and silently stood 
Beside of the Saviour carved in wood. 

Morn came with rosy cheeks and fair. 
Drawn in her car swift through the air; 
Through the chapel's oriel windows the sun 
On altar and floor and pillar shone, 



FRIAR JOHN. 99 

And the sparrows chirped from the laurel 

trees 
That gently swayed to the stiff, cool breeze, 
And the tower-bells rung a merry chime 
In honor of the Christmas-time, 
When the friars entered where lay the dead 
For early mass with measured tread ; 
And, there they saw, by the altar-place, 
The quiet, peaceful, upturned face 
Of friar John ; and one of them said, 
"An angel's been here, and our brother is 

dead!" 
''Yea, Christ has punished us," murmured 

they, 
"For our sinful last night's revelry!" 
As they took and gently bore him away I 

O, these friars did all fervently pray 
For their own souls the rest of that day ! 
As they sat around the chimney wide. 
And watched the Yule-log's roaring tide. 
And the brilliant trains of crimson sparks 
Like rockets that shot up the chimney's 

darks, 
Whil'e fiercely the wind from mountain peak 
Swept the open wold and hill-top bleak, 
And whirled the snow and the searching cold 
Through the cracks in the convent's case- 
ments old. 
They felt there was something beyond this 

earth 
With its passions that have in sin their birth ! 
Ay, something beside food, raiment, and 

wine — 
The soul's welfare and God's love divine! 



100 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

''OUR FLAG SHALL FLOAT TRI- 
UMPHANT !" 
Our flag shall float triumphant 

Upon the loyal breeze 
From men-of-war and merchantmen 

That sail the storm-swept seas ! 
God's pity on the people 

Who dare our flag assail ! 
Like leaves in autumn, they will fall 

Beneath our leaden hail ! 

Our flag shall float triumphant 

As emblem of the free, 
Upheld by sons of patriot sires 

Who fought for liberty ! 
Fling out the starry banner 

Unto the loyal breeze, 
For its tri-colors twice have dazed 

The "empress of the seas!" 

Our flag shall float triumphant 

On sun-kissed land and sea, 
Emblem of seventy million hearts, 

Of seventy millions free, 
Who boast not of their valor, 

Who boast not of their might ; 
But trust in God, and ask for naught 

But what is just and right ! 

Five years, we fought for Freedom, 
And drenched with human blood 

The very soil our Pilgrim sires 
For their own freedom trod ! 

Five years, we fought our brothers ! 
We met their steel with steel, 



TO IMMORTALITY. 101 

'Till Slav'ry fell a lifeless corpse 
On Appomattox' field! 

Our flag shall float triumphant, 

And all the world shall see 
That right and might go hand in hand 

Where there is liberty ! 
When Freedom reigns, the greatest 

Of all the blessings giv'n 
Are manliness and happiness, 

Gifts from the God of heav'n! 

Our flag shall float triumphant 

Where'er the sun shall light! 
They who insult its starry folds 

Shall learn that right is might! 
For God, our nation's Pilot, 

Is at the helm to-day ! 
He is our present help and strength ! 

He'll be our future stay! 



TO IMMOETALITY. 

(a fragment.) 

In winter wild the hard shell of the nut 
Is burst, and in the spring the loosened meat 
Sends out a tiny sprout which in the ground 
Takes root! The seasons pass, the years 

fly by, 

And, lo! where once the brown nut fell, 

there stands 
A mighty oak. Time, mounted on swift 

wings, 
Sweeps on. The giant forces of the air 



102 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

With those of earth combine, then the proud 

oak 
Soon loses vigor, pales, decays, and falls, 
While all its particles become as dust. 
Man comes, and tills the soil ; and, likewise, 

he 
Soon falls, and then is numbered with the 

past. 
Thus, after many seasons, earth beholds 
New scenes, new generations of her children. 

Here, 'neath the skies, unlimited, I rove 
Like to a shadow up and down the world ! 
''Yon changeless, silent spaces of the East, — 
Its folded mists, and ruby halls of morn, 
Seem ever to my fancy like a dream." 
Alas, that this frail shadow (once a youth. 
Boasting of beauty, strength, and iron will, 
And seeming in his heart to be a god) 
Should in these few short years become like 

this 
Poor tremb'ling reed — a prey to ev'ry blast! 

winds, to thee I cry, "Give me the 
strength 

To rise from this sad world, and find a home 

Somewhere amid the stars where Death can- 
not 

His cruel warfare wage!" In vain I cry! 

"The strong Hours work their wills, and 
beat me down 

To earth, and mar my form, and waste my 
flesh; 

And, though they cannot end me, still they 
leave 



TO IMMORTALITY. 103 

Me here in presence of the young and fair ! 
A spectral shadow 'side of mortal Youth!" 
My carnal heart cries, " Immortality, 
Breathe thou immortal youth within my 

veins ! 
I fain would cling unto thy shining robes, 
For all my former self in ashes lies ! 
Thy beauty wins me, and thy love doth 

charm ! 
Thy tremulous eyes, that fill with tears, 

would guide 
Me 'long a path ne'er trod before by Man! 
Yea, I would vary from the race of men, 
And, in thy armor drest, would Time defy!" 
But ah ! within me now I find my soul 
Antagonistic is unto the flesh ; 
And loud my spirit cries, "Forbear, forbear 
To wish upon thy body formed from dust 
The immortal gift! For with thy imperfec 

tions. 
Pray, wouldst thou dwell where soft airs fan 

the clouds. 
And just above them silver stars bend with 
Such lustrous eyes, and from the zones that 

gird 
The heav 'nly sphere, 'the wild team, yearn- 
ing for 
The yoke, arise, and shake the lightnings from 
Their loosened manes, and beat the shades 

of night 
Into dense flames of fire?' Pray, would 'st 

thou dwell 
With that fair creature with such shoulders 

fine 



104 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

And bosom heaving with eternal life, 

And with fair cheeks, and eyes that blind the 

stars, 
And whose sweet voice is sweeter far than 

e'er 
Apollo's was when he, of old, upon 
The Olympian Mountains sang so won- 

drously ? 
Pray, wouldst thou dwell with him, forever, in 
That land where sin cannot abide an hour, 
Clothed in thy earthly nakedness and shame? 
Forbear, forbear to wish upon thyself, 
Till cleansed by fire, the gift — immortal 

youth ! " 



"AND THE DAY IS DAEK AND 
DREAEY!" 

The day is dark, and the north winds cold 
With anger sweep through valley and wold. 
Like a pack of wolves on a hunter's trail. 
With frenzied howls they sweep through the 
vale, 
"And the day is dark and dreary!" 

Like sheeted ghosts the clouds sweep by. 
Obscuring the light of the sun on high; 
While the snowflakes fall without a sound 
On the leafless trees and the frozen ground ; 
"And the day is dark and dreary!" 

My heart is sad, for I miss the lays 
Of the merry birds, and the summer days ; 
" And the hopes of youth fall thick in the 
blast," 



WHITHER, BIRDS? 105 

As the storm of Life goes hurrying past ; 
O "the day is dark and dreary !" 

Take courage, heart, for soon will spring 
Come, and her blessings to thee bring ! 
Take courage, heart, as the years fly by, 
And remember each day brings heaven more 
nigh, 
"With its days never dark and dreary!" 

How weak in sight of God is man, 
And vain is ev'ry well-laid plan! 
'Tis only Truth that can stem the tide, 
And Eight the storms of life outride, 
When the "days are dark and dreary!" 

Take courage, heart, rest comes at last 
When the cruel storms of life are past ! 
Though grief to-day, to-morrow joy. 
And peace which sin cannot destroy — 
An eternity of gladness ! 



O WHITHER, BIRDS? 

WHITHER, whither, gay robins? 
whither, whither away? 
Though the forests are dyed with deep crim- 
son and gold. 
And the chill winds are sweeping through 
valley and wold. 
And the skies they are ashen and gray, — 
From the orchards and maples, gay robins. 
Why haste you, why haste you away? 

whither, whither, brave swallows? 
Why soar you so high in the sky? 



106 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Your little snug nests 'neath the barn's 

sheltered eave, 
Without a regret, O do you now leave, 
And circle and soar in the sky? 
O whither, whither, brave swallows? 
Do you fear because winter is nigh? 

whither, my darlings, my blue-birds? 
O why do you leave me alone? 
I will miss you, my birds, in the orchard and 

grove. 
And your songs in the morning, your songs 
which I love! 
Yes, my heart will be sad when you're 
gone ! 
whither, my darlings, my blue-birds? 
why do you leave me alone? 

whither, whither, blythe thrushes? 
Why leave the wild glade and the glen? 
The thickets of hazel and birch, and the 

brook 
That flows through the wood and by shad- 
owy nook? 
will you come back ne'er again? 
When the winter is past, and the spring- 
time 
Is come, shall I hear you again? 

"We're going," sing the robins, gay robins, 
"To a clime where winter is spring!" 

"And so are we," twitter the swallows, 
"Where we can be e'er on the wing!" 

" We're going, " sing blue -birds, " where skies 



AUTUMN. 107 

Do borrow the blue of our wings!" 
"And we," sing the thrushes, "are hasting 

To a land where we blithely can sing!" 
Now these are the answers they made me, 

My darlings, one autumn morn bright, 
As I roamed through the forest and valley, 

And watched them prepare for their 
flight. 



AUTUMN. 

Behold, the Autumn, modest maid. 

Has come ! Birds are downhearted, 
For Summer, with her beauteous train 

Of flowers, has departed ! 

Now Silence sits with downcast eyes 

In woodlands wild and shady. 
Where once the wood -thrush sang of love 
> Unto his v/insome lady. 

The brook within the mossy glade 

Sings on as blythe as ever ; 
It takes no thought of days gone by, 

Nor days to come, ah, never ! 

The frost has seared the fields around, 
The flow'rs in graves are lying. 

And through the branches of the pines 
The lonely winds go sighing ! 

An angel from the upper world 
Has set Time's wheels to turning, 

And a fire is lit in the heav'ns above 
Which set the woods a-burning. 



108 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

As far as eye can reach, the flames 
Envelop vales and mountains, 

And only stop upon the banks 
Of rivers, lakes, and fountains. 

The autumn-fires light up the cheeks 

Of farmer boy and maiden. 
Who carry on their well-turned arms 

Baskets with apples laden. 

Within the orchards ripe fruit bears 
The print of Autumn's fingers; 

On fields of corn and running vine 
Her golden sunshine lingers. 

Soon will the leaves fall from the trees, 
And on the damp earth moulder. 

And brilliant fires within the skies 
Will only feebly smoulder. 

But as we sit by the kitchen hearth, 
When Autumn has departed, 

And eat the fruit of tree and vine, 
How can we feel downhearted? 

When loudly roars the wind without. 
And down the chimney chases. 

Though humble be our home, 'twill seem 
The dearest of all places. 

Thank God for health and happiness, 

And cellars overflowing 
With richest gifts that earth can yield : 

The harvest of our sowing. 



TO THE CHIMNEY SWALLOWS. 109 

TO THE CHIMNEY SWALLOWS. 

Ye little, chatt'ring, brown-backed chimney 
swallows, 

Having thy home within the chimney's hol- 
lows, 

Something I have to say to ye this summei' 
day. 

What business had ye for to take possession 
Of premises of mine? Though a transgres- 
sion 
That ye a home there choose, still I'll not ye 
abuse. 

Not any thy unceasing, uncouth thund'ring 
In nights I hear. But then ye are so 

blund'ring 
That I'm afraid ye '11 come sometime into 

my room. 

Then what would be thy fate, my friends, 

supposing 
Old Tabba should lie on the sofa, dozing. 
And should awaken when ye, fearless, enter 

in? 

For this, and for the soot which ye are 

scattering, 
I'll close the flue; not for thy thumping, 

clatt'ring. 
Nor anything ye do else, ye merry crew ! 

That ye are happy, there is joy in knowing! 

There's greatest happiness in kind deeds 
doing. 

But never selfishness will bring man happi- 
ness ! 



110 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The same kind Harxd that gives thee Hfe 

will feed thee ! 
If I do right that same kind Hand will lead 

me; 
And all yet well will be with me, as now 

with thee ! 

Ye are, withal, so winsome and so friendly. 
That I'd not have ye harmed! On that 

depend ye ! 
Hence, through each summar day — live, 

love, and sing away ! 



IN THE HEAET OF THE WOODS. 

Through the dense underwood I force my 
way; 
Now climb the rocky steeps, and now descend 
The ledges bare or mossy to the glade 
Where pines and hemlocks spread their um- 
brage broad. 
With careless foot crushing the dainty flow'rs 
That star the lone recesses where the pines 
Attune their lyres and thrushes merrily sing. 
Onward I go, and ask not whither, for 
A spirit pure as is the morning light, 
With voice more sweet than that of mountain 

stream. 
Bids me go on. The passion in me quelled, 
I feel that I am free as is the wind 
That sweeps down through the hollows of 

the hills. 
At last, within the heart of these great 

woods 
I stand. Here may I laugh away all care ! 



IN THE HEART OF THE WOODS. Ill 

Here will I seat myself beside this oak 
On whose long crooked boughs the ivy and 
The mistletoe cling, forming a network 
Of dark green leaves and vines ! Yea, I will 

rest 
My limbs within this cooling shade, and list 
Unto the murmurings of the mountain 

stream 
And mellow cadences of thrush and wren! 
ye Wood -Nymphs and dusky Dryads, 
And Oreads, come, and on this sylvan slope 
Join in a merry dance unto the tune 
The Wild-Wind plays upon his yellow-reed ! 
Ye Woodland-Elves! I see ye pluck the 

heads 
Of lychnis, cardinallis, and bell-flowers, 
And scatter them upon the glassy pool. 
Lo, as I look, a breeze comes dancing down, 
And stirs the nestling waters into small 
Wavelets, but only for a moment, "then 
Those fragments dim of lovely forms unite; 
And as the pool a mirror bright becomes 
Again, I see the same fair flow'rs upon 
Its marge inverted there, and there 
The scraggy oak and half-uprooted pine!" 

where the sportive fairy-elves that cast 

The blossoms on the small pool's glassy 
breast? 

Homeward they steal through many a wood- 
land maze — 

By many a path unknown but unto them ! 

why does Man, when Nature smiles on him, 
And spreads for him her joys in field and 
grove — 



112 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Why does he seek the syren maiden, Vice, 
And pillow on her warm voluptuous breast 
His head? Why follow Euin as she walks 
Along the crowded thoroughfare of life, 
Seeking for victims whom she can destroy? 
If he who vile enjoyments ever seeks 
Could know what joy a pure life brings. 
His soul would fling its robes of sin away 
And don the spotless robes of Purity ! 
Nature ! Blest are they who dwell with 

thee, 
For thine the sweets that never satisfy, 
And thine the riches that do ne'er corrupt! 
Here, in this lone recess, emancipate 
From passion's bonds, I rest! Here can I 

raise 
My voice in adoration to the One 
Who gives to Nature all her sov' reign 

charms ! 



THE FIEST CHEISTMAS MORN. 

Loud went the shout through heaven's wide 

domain : 
" The Christ, the Son of God, on earth doth 

reign!" 
And here on earth Nature, in fear for Him, 
And mindful of man's sins, had doffed her 

gaudy trim. 

And she — to hide all her deformities. 
And to appear fair in her Master's eyes — 
Had donned a spotless robe of purity, 
As emblematic of her love and deep hu- 
mility. 



THE FIRST CHRISTMAS MORN. 113 

The sun, ashamed to mar the sanctity 
Of the Most Holy Christ's Nativity, 
Full -orbed and bright, had early gone to rest 
Far down the golden pathway of the dis- 
tant West. 

0, peaceful was the night when here began 
Christ's reign of peace! The winds with. 

wonder ran. 
And sweetly sang the little streams and rills 
That had their source among the wild 

Judean hills ! 

Hate slumbered, and peace ruled; for not 

a sound 
Of war's wild strife was heard the world 

around. 
The spear and shield hung on the fortress' 

wall. 
And unstained with human gore the chariot 

in the stall. 

The trumpet summoned not the warlike 

throng, 
And in the hall was hushed the minstrel's 

song! 
In banquet room the Bacchanalian horde. 
Awe-struck and speechless, sat around their 

fearful lord. 

The shepherds in the field — who sat that night 

Watching their flocks lest beasts from moun- 
tain height 

Should come and ravage — little dreamed or 
knew 

Of the heav'nly scene which Soon they, won- 
d'ringly, would view. 



114 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The midnight hour had passed, and they 
in row 

Were sitting, and their lamps were burn- 
ing low, 

When suddenly a flame suffused the heav'nly 
heights 

As if a thousand suns as one had joined 
their lights ! 

As if the heav'ns had caught a wild desire. 
And burning were with supernatural fire ! 
And as they gazed, before their astonished 

view. 
In dazzling, fire-fringed robes, the herald 

angel drew ! 

Saying: ''Fear not, for tidings of great joy 
I bring, for unto you is born this day 
In Bethlehem the promised Saviour, Christ, 
Who now has come to earth as a willing 
sacrifice ! 

"And unto you now let this be the sign. 

In a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, 

ye '11 find 
The little child !" When they these strange 

words heard. 
They knew the Lord had come, fulfilling his 

promised word ! 

Then music — such as mortals never knew, 
Or from stringed instrument or reed e'er 

drew. 
And sweeter than Apollo ever made 
Upon Olympic height, or in Thessalian for- 
est shade — 



THE FIRST CHRISTMAS MORN. 115 

Rang down the heav'nly arches; and sweet 

song 
Burst from cherubic and seraphic throng, 
While Cynthia in her journey paused to hear 
That mighty anthem, rolling on from sphere 
to sphere ! 

Not when God formed the stars such song 

had birth ! 
Nor when from naught he made and shaped 

the earth ! 
Before or since, no mortals have heard such 

strains 
As heard those favored ones on Bethlehem's 

star-lit plains ! 

Chime on, cr^^stal spheres, f orevermore ! 
And sing, angel host, that old sweet anthem 

o'er. 
That we may catch, if only the echo, of 
Its joyful strains of peace, good will and of 

Christ's love! 

And if to-day that song but linger long. 
Right will on earth be victor over Wrong ! 
Yea, Sin will slink away, and Strife will 

cease, 
And Time will usher in a blissful age of 

peace ! 

Yea, Truth and heav'n-born Justice, both 

will then 
Control, direct, and guard the hearts of men ! 
And all the Larez, formed from gold and stone 
Will be, by Righteousness, eternally o'er- 

thrown ! 



116 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Chime on, crystal spheres, f orevermore ! 
And sing, angel host, the anthem operand 

o'er 
With which ye heralded the Saviour's birth, 
Who came to dwell two thousand years ago 

on earth ! 



SOREOWING. 

The last faint trace of summer 

O'er the landscape now I see; 
The flow'rs upon the meadows, 

Beloved by bird and bee, 
Like the purple mists of morning, 

They vanish silently ! 
Like a withered flow'r my heart, love, 

Since you have gone from me ! 

No more the water-lilies 

Will fringe the silvery lake, 
For summer fair is leaving, 

And autumn's in her wake. 
The little brooklet ever 

Sings a mournful melody, 
And my heart sings the self -same song, love, 

Since you have gone from me. 

Sometime again the summer 

Will come to bless the land. 
And the flow'rs and birds will waken 

At her divine command ; 
Like the summer will you come, love. 

To one who is waiting for thee? 
Or, like a joy that is gone, love, 

Will you never come back to me? 



TO CHLORIS, 117 



TO CHLORIS. 
(old style.) 

My gentle Chloris, doubt no more. 

For Cupid now of me has made 
A captive, and with simple song 

I'll strive to woo thee in yon glade! 

Once spring for me had many charms, 
And summer once was my delight ! 

But when, my Chloris, thou art gone 
From me has gone all joy, all light ! 

No more at morn the flow'ry plain. 
Nor at noon's hour the shady grove, 

For me have joys ! I only see 

In sky and earth thy shadow, love ! 

My gentle Chloris, thou art like 
The autumn ripe, yet mild as May ; 

Brighter thy smile than light at noon, 
And fairer thou than early day ! 

That little daisy at your foot 
Has heart for love as well as I ! 

See how it leans its head tow'rds you, 
And turns to you a pleading eye ! 

The merry lark with folded wing. 
Awaiting for the morning's light, 

Sits on yon thorn, and how he longs 
With song to melt the heav'nly height! 

And wouldst thou, my Chloris fair. 
For heart of love break forth and sing? 

had I voice as has yon lark 

How I would make the heavens ring ! 



118 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

let us to yon sylvan glade, 

Where fountains flow and winds sing sweet, 
Together now, with arm in arm, 

To Love's sweet tune make swift retreat, 

Lest Phoebus in the gilded East 

His bounding steeds and car shouldst stay ; 
Or he through bitter jealousy 

With fiery jav'lins us shouldst slay! 



BENEATH THE FOREST'S SHADE I 
REST. 

Beneath the forest's shade I rest. 
Wearied by the noon's sultry heat. 

And hear the breezes from the West 
Amid the tall pines singing sweet. 

Above me in the heated sky. 

Like a huge ball hangs the bright sun ; 
¥/hile over all the mountains nigh 

The haze of noontide settles down. 

0, glorious is the realm outspread. 

The realm o'er which fair summer reigns, 

The wooded hills, the skies overhead. 
The meads and broad extended plains ! 

There o'er its channel deep and wide 
The streamlet seeks the distant West ; 

And o'er it softly the warm winds glide, 
Tossiug in ripples its silvered breast. 

I would that life might be as sweet 
Always as at this noontide hour ; 

But joy must die as at my feet 

Must die sometime yon lovely flow'r! 



THE OLD TRYSTINO TREE. 119 

I would that life might glide as smooth 
Along its channel as yon stream, 

And that life's sunset hour might prove 
To all more fair than poet's dream! 



THE OLD TEYSTING TEEE. 

When the dewdrops are falling 

O'er the green, grassy plains, 
And the night-birds are chanting 

Their gladsome refrains, — 
Then I think of the maiden 

So dear, dear to me, 
And I go forth to meet her 

'Neath the old try sting tree! 

When the angel of sunset, 

In purple robes drest, 
In her chariot of glory 

Eides down from the West, — 
I sit with the maiden 

So dear, dear to me, 
'Mid the shadows that gather 

'Eound the old try sting tree! 

When the stars in their splendor 

Peer down from the skies. 
They reflect but the brightness 

Of her beautiful eyes ! 
O, my loved one seems dearer, 

Far dearer to me, 
As the night-shadow gather 

'Eound the old trysting tree! 



120 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

As the beauties of sunset 

Soon vanish away, 
And the night-time fast follows 

Its gold and its gray, 
So death in our footsteps, — 

Yet dear, dear to me, 
E'er will be the fair maiden, 

And the old trysting tree ! 



THE HERMIT. 

AN ENGLISH TALE OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY. 

Within his humble hermitage, 

The Hermit sat one night ; 
The rude lamj) flickered on the stand, 
And on the Pray'r-Book in his hand 

It cast a feeble light. 
Upon the hearth the log fire burned, 

And fiercely snapped and roared; 
While, in the room, each angry gust 
Blew the white snow as fine as dust 

Through cracks 'twixt stone and board. 

Before the fire, the Hermit's dog 

Lay stretched upon the rug ; 
While on the table rough and rude, 
Which close beside the window stood, 

Was but an empty mug. 
On rusty hooks his halberd hung 

Above the thick slab door, 
And yet was Cheerfulness a guest 
Within the aged Hermit's breast 

Though Sorrow 'd been before. 



THE HERMIT. 121 

Asleep within his old arm-chair 

The Hermit sat, and dreamed 
Of boyhood's years, of bygone days, 
While down fair Mem'ry's golden ways 

His angel comrades streamed. 
Long sat he lost in pleasant dreams, 

Till came a sudden rap 
Upon the door as from some one 
Out in the night of storm alone — 

A loud and sudden rap ! 

And then a gust swept down, and shook 

The windows with a roar; 
While loud the elm- trees sighed and moaned, 
And neath its shock the aspens groaned 

Beside the lone cell's door. 
The oil within the lamp had burned. 

The logs had burnt to coals. 
While o'er the walls the shadows crept. 
And o'er the floor their dark robes swept 

Like garments of ghost-souls ! 

Again there came a louder rap. 

And then a sweet voice spake : 
" Open, I pray, your humble door, 
For cold's the storm, and loud the winds 
roar ! 

Open, for Christ's dear sake!" 
Half -dazed, the Hermit then arose. 

And drew the oaken bar. 
A gust of wind flung back the door, 
And whirled the sleet across the floor. 

Then quickly fled afar ! 

As the Hermit peered out in the storm, 
Amid the misty haze, 



122 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The gleaming spirit- form of one 

Whom he, for years, had mourned as gone 

Then met his eager gaze. 
She seemed to him more spiritual, 

Yet bore the same sweet smile. 
Her soft white hands she stretched to him ; 
In accents sweet she called his name 

As she was wont the while ! 

And as he clasped her hands in his — 

Her hands so cold and white — 
With her she gently bade him come ; 
Gladly he left his humble home, 

To tempt the angry night ! 
Again, he fancied he was a boy ! 

Again, he felt that pride 
Which oft he felt with Edna near — 
Though there had passed a fifty year 

Since that sad day she died ! 

On, on they walked, her hand in his, 

Yet not a word said she ; 
The winds around them shrieked and hissed ; 
The snow was whirled, an eddying mist. 

Across the barren lea. 
'It filled the air with broken clouds 

Like drifting smoke, and now 
'Twas hurled on high with arrow flight 
Above the loftiest pine tree's height, 

Then dashed in heaps below.' 

At last, she drew her hand from his; 

He stopped, but she had gone ; 
Thrice then he called to her. Alas, 
He heard but the torrent rushing past, 

And the dusky hemlock's moan! 



THE HERMIT. 123 

' Near him the laurel's drooping tufts 

Curled close around their stems, 
And the sere beech-leaves still that clung, 
And to each shrieking blast that swung, 
Were white with feathery gems.' 

He started on, but tried in vain 

The well-known path to find. 
The winds around him cried: "Despair! 
For we who walk with feet of air 

Leave not a trace behind!" 
Here, plunging in a -snowy mound, 

There, "clinging to a limb," 
The Hermit gasped for very breath ; 
Around his throat the hand of Death 

He felt ; his eyes grew dim ! 

As on he staggered through the snow, 

He thought that he must die ! 
" The blood seemed freezing round his heart, 
With ev'ry blast an icy dart 

Seemed through his frame to fly!" 
When Hope, his last bright star, had set, 

And strength was nearly gone, 
Lo, just ahead, a feeble light 
Gleamed through the storm haze and the 
night. 

And sound of bells swept down. 

"Thank God! Saint Agnes Chimes!" he 
cried ; 

Then on his stiffened form 
He dragged; at last the convent's door 
He reached ; there fell and knew no more, 

Chilled by the awful storm ; 



124 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

Then, in the lofty old stone tow'r 

Through which the wild winds roared, 

One after one, the great bells swung ; 

And to the tempest which them rung 
Their symphonies outpoured. 

The monks within, hearing the chimes, 

Bushed forth the bells to stay ; 
And as they swung the outer door, 
They found, by snow half -covered o'er. 

The Hermit who there lay. 
They dragged him from the wave-like heap. 

And thawed his half- froze form. 
He lived, rescued by those sweet chimes, 
Snatched from Death's hands by those sweet 
chimes 

Eung by the midnight storm. 

And ever since, the pious monks 

Sit in the old stone tow'r 
On New Year's Eve ; and through the night. 
They ring those bells till the morning light 

Proclaims the glad New Year ! 



HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS EVE. 

The night is dark; o'er the church tow'r 

The pale moon dips her horn ; 
The silent stars proclaim the hour 

When Thou, Christ, was born ! 
Make Thou, Lord, my heart as pure 

As are yon frosty skies, 
Or as, upon the wintry moor, 

The sparkling snow that lies ! 



MORTALITY. 125 

The evening hours pass slowly on ; 

The winds are loud and keen ; 
Now as I bow before thy throne, 

Make Thou my garments clean ! 
Me thinks, amid the heav'nly height, 

I hear the angels sing : 
'' All glory to the Prince of Light, 

To heav'n's eternal King!" 

Sinful and weak and vain I am ! 

Sinful and weak am I ! 
But Thy dear love, O precious Lamb, 

Can cleanse and sanctify ! 
O lift me to that heav'nly place 

Where endless summers move ! 
There let me gaze upon Thy face, 

And sing thy wond'rous love! 



MOETALITY. 

Here are huge beeches, oaks, and gnarled 

pines, 
Upon which pale green mosses thrive. This 

ground 
Was never torn by ploughshare rude. 

Around, 
In sunny places, bloom fair flow'rs; here 

twines 
The woodbine round a kingly oak, and shines 
The sun down on the bower formed ! With 

bound 
Of joy, a squirrel leaps upon a mound 
Of ferns, then back into the tree, while in 
The hazel thicket chirps a minstrel- thrush I 



126 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

The summer fails; the autumn comes, and 

thin 
Fihns of hoar-frost are spread on tree and 

bush, 
And all the wood is stilled at autumn's 

''hush." 
Then are we brought in contact with grim 

Death- 
Mortality is but his pois'nous breath! 



IMMOETALITY. 

I LOOK around upon land, sea, and sky, 
And note the steady changes going on ! 
The landmarks of this year, the next, are 

gone; 
And naught remains then but the memory ! 
"Change and decay go on!" the wild winds 

sigh. 
In vain I turn, and hail the setting sun, 
And wait the answer which he sendeth 

down: 
"Thousands of years I've watched the earth 

with eye 
That never failed, yet. Immortality, 
Have never seen her classic brow upon!" 
The depths of hell beneath me spew their 

lurid fires, 
And there, lo ! Immortality expires ! 
Above me gleam heav'n's gates, — yea, far 

above. 
I look ; there, Immortalitv — is — LOVE ! 

7 7 1/ 



AN EVENING BESIDE THE SEA. 127 



AN EVENING BESIDE THE SEA. 

The night-winds, fallen through the starry 
sky, 
Sweep down the foaming pathway of the 

sea, 
And drive the clouds as o'er the em 'raid 
lea 
The shepherds drive their flocks to folds that 

lie 
Beyond. The keeper climbs the tower high 
And lights the lamps; soon, bright and 

free. 
They shine, that those on passing ships 
may see 
And shun the sunken reefs and dangers 
nigh. 

The white-lipped waves and eerie winds that 
race 
Across the main chant Nature's song sub- 
lime, 

While the bright orb that leads the starry 
chase 
From her proud height echoes the hymn of 
time! 

I join in song to ease my heart of care. 

True song is but the spirit's uttered prayer! 



128 RURAL LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



EECOMPENSE. 

Falling, falling, one by one. 

Leaves of crimson, leaves of gold, 
Faintest trace of summer is gone, 

And the year is growing old. 
Cheer up, sad heart ! Be at rest ! 

Youth has passed, and Age is here ! 
Age has trials, yet is blessed 

With a harvest like the year ! 

Flock by flock the birds have fled ; 

Thicket and grove are silent now ; 
Beauteous flow'rs lie withered and dead 

On the hills and meadows low. 
Will the heart be silent when 

Life has changed from green to gold? 
Will joys never come again 

To the heart that has grown old? 

Chilly blow the north winds o'er 

Forests lone and meadows sere ; 
Autumn has come, and the earth once more 

Feels the weight of the aged year. 
Time gives Age its snow-white hair. 

Love guards old hearts from the cold ; 
Life is blest if love be there. 

Though the heart, like the year, is old. 



THE END, 




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